Foolish Gryffindor
by DEATHmuse
Summary: Snape has Tourette's. Harry is aroused -- That is, until Snape retaliates. SSHP. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potterverse, or any of the books. I am merely using these characters to satisfy myself. But if I DID own them... Oh, the possibilities...

Warning: This is 200 percent crack. OOCness and weirdness galore. This is slash, meaning a story concerning a relationship between two males. Don' like? Don' read, mmkay?

Author's Note: Hello, reader! Just a little background information on this story. My friends and I thought of the plot one day, during one of our videogame bashes. It was so ridiculously stupid and funny, that I had to write the idea on paper... Or, at least, type it on a word document.

I hope someone out there enjoys our stupid humor. :D

Without further ado, I give to thee, Foolish Gryffindor.

Chapter 1: The Plan 

Harry Potter was in a pickle.

And oh, what a pickle it was. A thick, crunchy one that gushed juices of confusion and embarrassment. It was a problem most foul, lurking deep in the heart of Harry's loins. A revelation so truly disgusting that Harry dared not utter it, the mere thought of it being forbidden and just plain _wrong _in the heads of others.

Oh, yes. Harry Potter, in the past year or so, had adopted a fancy for his old, snarky Potions professor, Severus Snape.

Harry's little infatuation wasn't planned. It never gradually developed from a fierce abhorrence, to a mild companionship, and into a vibrant concupiscent being. The feelings of lust didn't even arrive overnight. Harry had been minding his own business in his Potions class, when he dropped his supply of black beetle eyes a couple of seconds before the designated time. The contents in his cauldron immediately turned scarlet instead of a bright goldenrod, and the bat was on him before he could say detention.

"Foolish gryffindor! I specifically ordered to keep a close watch on the..."

And it hit Harry like a thousand stinging hexes.

Snape looked positively... _stunning_, when his onyx eyes were boring holes through a person's school robes and pride. That brilliant shade of pallid cream in his face was such a vast contrast to the dark robes he wore often, that clung onto his toned form. And why did Harry notice? Why could Harry suddenly see that the rumored greasy raven hair, was not at all greasy, but shimmering and sleek under the dim lights of the room?

Harry was undergoing a religious experience, right then and there at Hogwarts. The fish scales fell out of his eyes and he could see so clearly, it was almost blinding. His breath hitched and he heard angels softly singing in soprano. A loud, booming voice was heard, like the voice of Merlin himself, but perhaps, it might have just been Harry's new object of affection's scolding statements.

Yes, Snape had the voice of a god. Each scathing remark just oozed and dripped down onto Harry like sweet honey. Also, though he had never noticed before, Snape's hook-shaped nose actually gave him a nice profile and unique face. It was a strange type of beauty...

And then the images rushed through his head, and Harry wanted nothing more but to jump in the man's arms and grind his heat against his hips, to kiss him senselessly and forcefully til both their lips were red and bruised. He wanted to unravel the black robes and touch all that was hidden under there and map out each and every inch of the fleshy surface, and he wanted...

"Mr. Potter, are you listening to me?"

"Euh... Wha?"

Snickers were heard throughout the classroom, and Snape's glare became even more threatening as he leveled his eyes with Harry's, the closer range proving to be rather inconvenient for the boy as he fought his hormonal urges to lunge at his professor.

"Detention, Potter. And a Troll for the day. Now, clean this vile filth of a potion up, you impertinent boy." Snape sneered and stalked back to his desk to fail more first-year essays.

"Tough luck, mate," Ron whispered, and patted his best friend on the shoulder. Harry immediately scowled and cast an angry look towards the front of the room. "Greasy git," he responded, though the insult had little meaning at the moment.

He couldn't really be developing profound feelings for Snape, could he?

Perhaps the month of preparation for the final battle against Voldemort at the end of his sixth year might have had an impact on his little crush. Dumbledore rushed around and about Grimmauld Place assigning strenuous tasks and missions. The only two people not being placed to perform said jobs were Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Harry was to be kept within the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix until every person, creature, and thing was set in place for the Final Battle. On the other hand, Dumbledore decided that it was time to trash the Death-Eater facade, and ordered Snape to reveal his true stance in the war. Snape, too, had to be secluded in Grimmauld Place, for his safety, and was directed to drink a large dose of pain-relieving potion for the burning mark on his forearm.

Dumbledore asked that Snape provide the proper training for the student, urging Severus to spend long hours in the large Black study room to exercise defense spells with Harry. This forced bonding and socializing hardly helped their volatile relationship, but Harry found it a success, as they had survived the month-long ordeal without hexing each other to oblivion. They shared their dinners in silence, and rarely spoke to each other. Once, he had said something that caused a glint of amusement to flicker in those dark eyes, and Harry was disturbed, finding it impossible for that man to know the feeling, as he was always brooding, and scowling, and cursing under his breath.

Now, Harry had carried that moment of seeing his professor amused in the back of his mind at all times.

And that was a secret that Harry hoped no one would ever know -- At least, not now. Ron had already thrown himself in a frenzy when the boy had told him and Hermione that he was in fact, gay. Of course, Ron eventually got over his shock, and was rather relieved at the end of the fiasco. "Heh," he laughed nervously. "At least you'll never make a move on 'Mione." Harry had laughed, and their awkward days were over. However, to reveal these startling new feelings for their most hated teacher would be just the same as _Avada Kedavra_-ing the redhead.

Harry sighed into his pillow, facedown on his bed in the boys' dormitory. The others had already fallen asleep, and so the only noises keeping Harry company were thundering snores emitting from numerous canopies.

He rolled over onto his back, brought his hands to the back of his head, and looked up at the ceiling. In five weeks, he would be graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, be thrown into the real world, and he still had no clue on what he was supposed to do with his life. He certainly couldn't wait for another dark wizard to rise. Besides, he had had enough of insane dark lords and their mindless sheep for two lifetimes.

Though enough about life-changing decisions. What he was _really_ worried about was the fact that he would never see Severus Snape again. Harry closed his eyes, and considered why exactly that was such a bad thing. He would get over these horrid feelings and move on with his life. Sure, Snape was a sexy beast, and Harry had many wanks over him, but that was as far as it could go.

...Or could it? Harry opened his eyes in realization. He had never heard any rumors about a Mrs. Snape, or any gossip concerning the Potion Master's love life. Due to many late nights in the common room, he had heard unbelievable reports concerning Professor Sinistra, Madame Hooch, and even -- Harry shivered in his bed -- disturbing tales involving McGonagall and Dumbledore. However, he had never heard anything of Snape. Was he a hermit? Was he asexual?

Harry had to know. He had to snag himself a Potions Master. He just had to think of a scheme. Something clever, for Snape could smell a prank heading in his direction a mile away. The last time a poor student attempted to pull a joke on the man, he had been condemned for four months of Filch's detentions, and Harry never heard of the fourth-year again. Of course, he might have just changed his name to avoid the humiliation he surely endured.

Then there was the matter of Snape's utter loathing for Harry. The man had made it clear that he hated everyone and everything even slightly related to The Boy Who Lived. If Harry just waltzed up to his classroom and professed his feelings, the man would surely laugh in his face, send him backwards against the wall, and promptly tell the entire school of Harry's teenage turmoil.

"Foolish gryffindor," he'd say. "What makes you think a man like me would tolerate such an inadequate, daft lover like yourself?"

Harry gritted his teeth, and huffed in frustration. He was losing sleep all over some stupid little obsession. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of Snape and his caustic insults... It was as if Snape were a robot, only programmed to sneer and scowl at anyone that wasn't a slytherin... Constantly yelling about foolish gryffindors, idiotic imbeciles, daft students, blundering dunderheads... Was his vocabulary so miniscule... It was as if that was all he could say...

Harry's eyes shot open. Yes. Yes, that was it. It was the perfect plan. Harry had a rare moment of pure ingenuity as the plan was laid out in front him. It was impeccable. It would work. He was certain.

Thank you, Rambling Thoughts Before A Deep Sleep That Make Hardly Any Sense.

Satisfied and content, he finally surrendered to rest, after making a mental note of heading down to the owlery the next morning.

* * *

The large grandfather clock in the Gryffindor common room struck a dozen times as Harry anxiously glanced at the fireplace. As if on cue, a crackling of wood echoed throughout the room with the clock's last strike. Harry, seated on a loveseat facing the fire, sprang up and ran forward just in time to see two identical redheads pop up into his view.

"Hello, Harry!" they said in a cheerful unison that brought a smile on the boy's face.

"And what can we do for you on this fine evening?"

"Planning a little farewell prank at Hogwarts, are we?"

"That isn't very becoming for a man your age."

"I agree, Fred, not very becoming."

Harry rolled his eyes, though he was amused by the twins. "It's nothing," he began, a devilish grin forming on his face. "Just a little something to remember me when I'm gone."

George rubbed his eye and faked a sob. "They grow up so fast," he said.

"So, what'll it be? A dungbomb massacre? Fireworks?"

Harry shook his head, his smirk growing wider with each guess. Oh, it would be bigger than a field planted with millions of dungbombs. "I was actually wondering..." He trailed off and smirked. "Is The Babble Brew ready yet?"

Silence followed. The twins stared blankly at Harry, for they were in awe. "Harry, are you scheming what I'm thinking you're scheming?" George asked incredulously.

Harry nodded.

"You were always our favorite Gryffindor, Harry," Fred stated, eyes twinkling like mad. George was beaming as well. "We'll get it to you in three days, tops!"

"Good luck, Harry!" they both said and their heads quickly vanished.

The plan was in progress.

The brown parcel arrived in three days, just like the twins had promised. Harry waited until evening to open the package in the privacy of his bed. He wanted to keep his little "prank" private, at least for now.

Harry unwrapped the small bottle from its brown cocoon and examined it in his hand. There was a note attached, the handwriting messy and large.

_One drop will be enough. We made a special version of this for you that we know you will enjoy._

_Make us proud._

Harry smiled and rolled the blue bottle in his hand. Oh, he'd make them proud, all right.

* * *

Thank Merlin for Lucius Malfoy.

Thank the heavens for his conniving ways and manipulative manners. Thank the deities, because if not for his little machination back in Harry's second year, the elder Malfoy would still have his house elf, and Harry's prank would go in vain.

When Harry called for Dobby the night before, the little elf was more than ecstatic to oblige. "Anything for master Harry!" he squeaked as he grabbed the blue bottle from Harry's hand and disappeared with a crack.

Now, it was morning, and Harry felt like a little kid on Christmas Day.

He entered the Great Hall alone, and advanced towards his two best friends, sitting across from the canoodling lovers.

Disgusting.

Harry smiled nevertheless and gave a morning greeting. His breakfast plate appeared before him, and as he reached for a slice of bread, he briefly glanced at the staff table.

No sign of Snape. Damn it.

"What do we have first today?" Harry inquired, furtively scanning the room. He should be here any second...

The two lovebirds paid no attention to his question, so he loudly coughed. The pair looked up and Hermione blushed. Ron smiled sheepishly and began to eat his ignored plate. Harry rolled his eyes and asked his question again.

"Charms," Hermione replied. "By the way, have you begun your essay for Transfiguration? I went to the library to do some research, but..."

Harry stopped paying attention, however. It was as if he could _feel_ him. All of a sudden, his chest went cold, and he turned his head towards the table. Yes, the object of his affection was now seated. His food and drink were appearing... The drink that could make or break the situation...

"I don't know, 'Mione," Harry said absently. He took a bite of his bacon and focused his eyes on the plate below him. His friends were talking about something else, though Harry was gone, gone to a planet where only he and Snape existed.

Through his peripheral vision, he watched his professor pick at his food and take a rather small bite of his toast.

Snape despised eating. Harry had noticed.

Then, his heart skipped a beat -- Snape was reaching for his coffee. He held the tall mug in his hand and raised it to his lips --

And narrowed his eyes. Harry went pale. Surely, he couldn't have detected_one_ single drop of a potion in his coffee, could he? Then again, he _was_ a goddamn Potions Master. Harry cursed his stupidity, and brought his full gaze toward the professor. Snape brought the mug down, a deathly scowl formed on his lips and he looked out to the sea of students before him.

The man opened his mouth, a trail of obscene and malicious threats on the tip of his tongue, and Harry was sure Snape knew it was him. It was all over. He wouldn't see the light of day, the man would do everything in his power to see that he didn't graduate, he would hex him into oblivion, he would --

"Severus, my boy, is there something wrong with your decaffeinated beverage?"

Harry turned to the headmaster, a look of pure bewilderment on his face, as did Snape's. Snape turned to Dumbledore, and raised an eyebrow.

"Decaffeinated?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I took the liberty of asking the house-elves to prepare you a coffee with no caffeine." His eyes twinkled, and he grinned. "You've been on edge recently, Severus, I only assumed it was due to the large dose of the drug you consume every morning."

Snape sneered. "I am _not_ on edge."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course you're not, Severus. However, I still must encourage you to lay off the caffeine."

Snape looked positively infuriated, and it took all of Harry's strength not to burst in a fit of roaring laughter. His professor opened his mouth, most likely to retort, but closed it, and sighed loudly. He drank his coffee unhappily, and resumed his scrutinizing of his food.

Harry turned to the headmaster, and he locked eyes with him. Dumbledore winked, and turned to McGonagall to start a conversation. Harry smiled widely.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Ron asked with a heapful of eggs in his mouth. Hermione watched him in disgust.

He turned to his friends and shook his head, though his grin would not disappear. "Nothing," he replied, pushing his plate to the side. "Well, I'm done."

"Good," Hermione stated, as she stood up and mimicked Harry's action with Ron's food, much to the redhead's dismay. "Let's head onto Charms, it's getting rather late."

Leave it to Hermione to consider being seven minutes early "late." The trio grabbed their books, and promptly headed out of the Hall.

The brooding Potions Master watched the insufferable golden trio leave the Hall and glared at his plate, remembering that he was to teach them in the afternoon. The day was shaping up to be horrible, indeed._On edge..._ Snape snorted into the disgustingly bare coffee that he was reluctantly drinking.

Honestly, everyone in the damn school was a stupid idiot. At least his Slytherins were tolerable, but the cons outweighed the pros, what with meddling Headmasters, aggravating faculty, naive Hufflepuffs, know-it-all Ravenclaws, and --

"Foolish Gryffindor," Snape said aloud, before he could think twice.

"Pardon me, Severus?" Filius Flitwick asked as he turned in Snape's direction.

Snape hid his confusion with a scowl, and cleared his throat, producing an aura of slight arrogance. "Nothing," he stated, and forced food into his mouth. The Charms teacher returned his attention back to whatever he was doing.

What in Merlin's saggy ba --

_Foolish Gryffindor._

Snape, that time, was prepared for the invasion, so he managed to stop the words from leaving his head. However, he felt another strong pull in his head, and he opened his mouth again. "Fo--" He gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes. This was _not_ happening, it was _most certainly not _happening...

"Is everything okay, Severus?" The somewhat concerned voice belonged to Minerva.

"F--"

A slight color began to rise in his cheeks. Snape chewed desperately on his bottom lip to cease his mumbling. He cleared his throat, as if that would stop the unknown verbal twitches and he tightly gripped the table until his knuckles turned white. The entire staff was staring at the stammering professor with curiousity, and he even caught the attention of some students.

Oh, bugger.

Snape stood up from his chair, causing it to topple backward and onto the tiles below, landing with a deafening crash. All eyes were on him now as he rapidly began the long trek out of the Great Hall. He heard faint whispers from the tables, most likely due to his questionable swift retreat, but he didn't care. It was going to come out in the form of a large explosion, and he needed to exit the public's eye, or he would embarrass himself. And just, what was this _it?_

"Foo--" he muttered under his breath. He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out until he tasted iron.

He closed the large door behind him, and was greeted to an empty corridor. He continued speeding to his office, but the urge was so_unbearable_...

It erupted before he could do anything.

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!" He bellowed at nothing, eyes piercing nothing, and with a flourish of his robes, he scared to death, absolutely nothing.

It was like the aftermath of unbelievable sex. He panted heavily, wiping the sweat from his forehead and sighed in relief, a burst of satisfaction filling his lungs. It was all over.

Then, he heard an almost inaudible whimper and he turned his head to the sound. A rather obese Hufflepuff was shaking in his shoes, and tears were falling on his cheeks. He sobbed, and Snape almost laughed, were it not for the fact that they were both enduring mortification in the situation.

The fat, blonde boy (a first-year, Snape recognized) wiped his eye and cried out in a high-pitched wail. "But, IIII'mm a Hu-Hufflepuffff, s-s-sir!" The boy ran away before Snape could reply. The Potions Master just blinked, completely dumbfounded and beyond perplexed at what had occurred in a matter of five minutes.

Today was shaping out to be a horrible day, Snape thought. Inde--

"Foolish Gryffindor!" he uttered loudly. Snape cringed.

Somewhere in Diagon Alley, two Weasley brothers laughed hysterically.


	2. Chapter 2: The Effects

Chapter 2: The Effects

Severus Snape was not an idiot. Of course he realized that he was subject to a prank potion -- It's not like he had developed an infatuation on foolish Gryffindors overnight. Preposterous! It was a Weasley product, no doubt. Clever, _lucky_ student, he thought with disdain, to pour a drop of the brew the day Albus fed him decaffeinated coffee (not once did he consider the possibility of Albus being in on the joke because, surely, the man was above such petty, and pointless shenanigans. Albus would _never_ trick him.). Yes, the student was clever, he had to admit. It had been years since any type of practical joke went unnoticed under Snape's paranoid gaze.

Unfortunately, the pupil's efforts were futile, for Snape had left the Great Hall, and the only person to witness his outburst was a sobbing Hufflepuff.

Pffft. The person obviously was not clever enough. Snape had come out the victor in the situation. He shivered, as if shaking out the last remnants of his episode, and walked toward his classroom, an air of confidence with each step.

He underestimated the effects of the elixir. Damn it.

His first class consisted of bitten, bleeding lips, a rosy pink color permanently suffused on his cheeks, body twitches, and confused glances between his third-year Slytherins.

Not to mention the frequent outbursts of "Foo-" "F--DAMN IT ALL," and "Foolish--Merlin's SAGGY BALLS!"

It was most inconvenient, to say the least.

Snape stormed out of the dungeons as soon as his first class finished. He headed toward Dumbledore's office and when he entered, he dramatically slammed the door. Fawkes squawked a greeting, but Snape just glared at the phoenix as he approached the Headmaster.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking up from his copy of The Daily Prophet on top of his long, mahogany desk. He reached for a small silver tray and handed it to Severus. "Lemon drop?"

The man continued to seethe, his left eye twitching uncontrollably. "I've been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Dumbledore questioned incredulously, blue eyes scintillating with amusement.

Snape placed his fists on the desk, his anger boiling within him, or perhaps it was just another verbal outbreak. "Did I s--F-- stutter? Yes, poisoned, Albus. By one of those appalling Weasley products. I suspect the ruffian slipped it into my drink that was conveniently missing caffeine, and therefore, I was unable to detect any foreign flavor. No thanks to you," he growled. "I expect the culprit to be caught by the afternoon and on the Hogwarts Express by dusk."

To his aggravation, Dumbledore just leaned back on his chair and stroked his silver beard, as if pondering the man's predicament -- Or, perhaps, he wasn't listening _at all_.

Snape pounded a fist on the table. "Albus, are you comprehending the gravity of the situation? I've been _poisoned_."

At this, Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I believe the word is_pranked_, not poisoned. Not to fret, my boy." He popped a lemon drop into his mouth, and continued before Snape could reply. "I haven't the slightest clue who would want to pull such a trick on you, Severus. You're a very likeable man."

Fawkes chirped.

"Just curious, Severus, but what are the side-effects of this potion?"

Snape was becoming rather irritated.

"Does that matter?" Then, as if on cue, he exploded. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" He leaned against the desk, as if the insult was painful to say.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, yes, I thought so. I was wondering why you scared little Gregory Walters. Poor boy burst into my office in the morning crying his eyes out," he finished, shaking his head in concern.

Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I must insist we contact the Weasley twins immediately. A remedy would be -- FOO-- appreciated at the moment."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, in that goddamned manner, indicating that he knew more than he was saying, but that could hardly be true, because again, Dumbledore _most surely_, would not be involved in this. "I'm sorry, Severus, but Fred and George Weasley are on vacation at the moment, and won't return to their shop for another three weeks."

Snape was shooting daggers with his eyes.

"Three weeks?" His voice was as cold as steel. "F--" He took a deep breath, resisting the unwanted urge bubbling inside him. "What am I to do for three _goddamn_weeks?" His eye twitched.

"Can't you create a remedy?"

A moment of silence followed. Snape was tapping his foot impatiently on the ground. "As much as I loathe to admit it, you know as much as I do, that those redheaded hooligans might possibly be the most clever people we know. FOO -- (a deep breath, and he continued,) By the time I think of a possible counter potion, they would be back, and my time will have been wasted."

Dumbledore nodded. "Bit of a pickle, isn't it?"

Snape couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

Seven hours had passed since he'd last seen his professor, and now Harry was about dying to see the effect of the brew. He had first witnessed the potion in action when Rufus Scrimgeour had made an important speech on a visit to Hogwarts during his campaign. He was rambling about the importance of education -- Harry wasn't really paying attention -- when suddenly, his mouth was agape, and he was stuttering like mad. The minister looked around, as if seeking help, but he continued muttering nonsense, until two aurors had to push him off of the stand, and escort him out of the premises.

The Daily Prophet had a field day due to Scrimgeour's fumble, and Harry applauded the twins for their wit.

It was why he requested the brew after all. Everyone knew that Snape's ultimate weapon and best feature was his voice. To have him stammer like an idiot would be priceless, and the perfect retribution for the malicious and unfair punishments he wreaked upon every student's (save for the Slytherins) heads.

Harry quickly walked into the murky classroom to gain a seat in the back next to Ron. Of course, he would have much preferred to have a spot in the front, but Harry blushed every time he met eyes with the Potions master. Besides, Harry needed to concentrate. His grade had been slipping, what with the little regard he gave to the class.

Harry settled himself into the seat, and a moment after, Snape slammed the door open and stomped to the front of the room. He looked rather disheveled, and angrier than usual. Harry wondered what had happened that day to upset the man so much.

Oh. Yeah.

Snape flicked his wand, and instructions appeared on the front board. He gritted his teeth as he spoke. "You will work quietly through the class period. Label your potions and place them on my desk when you are finished. I am not feeling tolerant today, so I expect that no miscalculations will occur." He eyed the Gryffindor side of the room as he said this.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students rose from their seats to retrieve the necessary ingredients. Everyone, to Harry's surprise, was working diligently, and nothing peculiar had happened for the first hour.

Ten minutes before dismissal, Harry heard Snape clear his throat. He turned his head to watch him.

Snape was fidgeting as he was grading essays. Snape _never_ fidgeted. Harry brought his full attention to his professor. The man was now tapping his hand on the desk, despite the cool composure on his face. He cleared his throat again, and Harry could swear he saw his face twitch.

"Fo..." he whispered. Harry noticed a student or two look up, but they ignored their teacher.

When Snape finally looked up, coughing this time, he loosened the collar around his neck. He was biting his lip roughly, and gripping his long quill tightly. Harry was puzzled.

His potion made a burping noise, announcing that it was done and ready to be bottled. He did so, and, with a slight reluctance, trudged up to Snape's desk to place the work in front of him. At such close proximity, Harry could fully view his affection's nervous habits. His face was colored with a pink tint, and he was sweating profusely. Snape's hands twitched as Harry approached, and they locked eyes for a brief second. Harry blushed, mumbled incoherent words that vaguely sounded like "I'm finished, sir," and turned around.

"Potter."

His heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, professor?"

"FOO-" He tilted his head, his left eye twitching furiously. "F-... Hand me that..." He took a deep breath. "The calming draught on that shelf. Fo--... Now."

Harry complied and grabbed the sleek bottle. He was approaching Snape's desk again, when he felt the hex hit him (damn Draco Malfoy, damn!) and he ended up tripping on his own foot. He cried out as he landed on the cold stone floor.

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry picked himself up, and forced himself to meet Snape's gaze, though what he found waiting for him was absolutely shocking. The man had a look on his face that could only be described as shock, relief, terror, and agony.

"TEN P-...FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry looked at him quizzically. Didn't he just say that?

Snape was now standing up, though his left hand was tightly clinging onto the edge of the desk, and his right hand was held snugly into his side, as if he were suffering the world's worst bowel movement. "TEN POINTS FR -- FOOLISH GRYF -- MERLIN'S SAGGY BALLS."

Harry snorted, then realized that he in fact, snorted at _Severus Snape_, and resumed back to his stance of utter fear. However, he was not scared. Not at all. He doubted anyone in the classroom was feeling the tension, because Snape was suffering... through an ailment of some sort.

And it was hilarious as _fuck._

Snape was now bending down in physical pain. His face was red now, and Harry almost felt a little sorry for the man -- Almost.

The man looked frantically around the room, twisted derangement flickering in his black eyes. He pointed a finger at the class, as he was still struggling to breathe and stand. He wheezed and coughed. "Class dismi -- FOOL -- dismissed! GO, NOW."

Everyone at once retreated into the safety of the hall, but not without snickering. Harry was still observing the man, who was drenched in sweat. "Professor, are yo --"

"NOW!"

"But you seem to be--"

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" Snape winced and huddled into the desk. "Detention, Mister Potter! This Friday, NOW GO!!"

"But--"

"GO!!"

Harry didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

"Did you see his face?" Ron cackled and toppled onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room. His girlfriend sat next to him and rolled her eyes, but the mirth in her tone of voice was overwhelming. "Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said. "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, yes it was! The greasy git has Tourette's! Who knew?" He laughed again. Surrounding Gryffindors were eavesdropping on their conversation and joined in on the bullying of Severus Snape.

Harry was sitting on a red lounge chair, smirking in satisfaction. His little scheme was a success, so much so, that were it not for the fact that Snape would wring his neck if he revealed himself as the culprit, he would be basking in glory, and possibly have a statue made in dedication to him.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived to Prank Snape.

Hermione interrupted his fantasy. "It's obvious that he doesn't have a speech impediment. It looks like the effect of a potion." She dropped her voice so that only Ron and Harry would hear. "A bit like that brew your brothers fed Scrimgeour."

Ron's eyes widened. "You think Fred and George did this?" He contemplated the theory for a moment. He leaned back onto the couch and raised his arms behind his head. "Well, whoever it is, he's a hero—Ow!" Ron yelled as Hermione jabbed him on his side. Her brows were furrowed in frustration. "He or she," she corrected.

"Oh, come on! I doubt a girl had the balls to—"

Hermione was sending a death glare that silenced the redhead. He knew better than to cross the path of an irate woman. He dropped the subject and turned back to Harry. "Uh, anyway, it's too bad the greasy git gave you detention. Hey, Harry, what're you smilin' at?"

"Oh," Harry said, flushing a bit, though the dim lights in the room made it difficult to distinguish the pink. "Just remembering Potions class."

Ron smiled. "A hero, I tell ya! I'm gonna owl Fred and George later on this week to see if they know anything about it."

Hermione stood from the couch, and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, I'm going to start my Arithmancy homework. I suggest you two start your work, as well. Just because we're leaving in four and a half weeks doesn't mean we can slack off."

Ron snorted. "C'mon, 'Mione," he started, and they soon entered into a heated argument, but as always, Harry paid no mind to them. He was already thinking of the different ways he would seduce Snape the following Friday…

Oh, it'd be perfect.

* * *

Author's Note: I just wanted to thank the people who reviewed and added this story on their alerts. I'm so flattered, especially because I'm a new writer, this being my first Snarry fic, and third fanfic work overall. I'm having a ton of fun writing this. Just a suggestion: It's much more fun to read aloud. ;)


	3. Chapter 3: The Proposal

Chapter 3: The Proposal

The exciting day ended, followed by Wednesday morning and afternoon. Thursday passed by swiftly, and in no time at all, it was Friday evening, and Snape had suffered more humiliation in the past four days than he had in all of his teenage years at Hogwarts.

"_Open your textbooks to page three--" he coughed roughly, stifling the noise with a clenched fist. The students perked their heads attentively, for they knew what was to occur in the next second, much to the professor's chagrin. Snape's arm moved of its own accord and he waved his robes in a flamboyant gesture. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"_

_The entire sixth-year Potions class broke into hysterics. Snape's hands shook from the aftermath, and the embarrassment, and the anger. He would not tolerate this type of behavior from his advanced students! "I will have order in this classro--FOOLISH GRYFF--classroom."_

_The teenagers continued to laugh, however. "Lion got your tongue?" someone in the back row yelled, and the dwindling chuckles erupted once again into a roar. Snape just stood there, sulking and wondering why these dreadful events only happened to him._

The state of his condition had also worsened drastically. The occasional slips became more frequent, occurring at least once every hour. It had begun with minor facial twitches and a mildly painful effort to resist the inevitable, but as days progressed, his condition had escalated to a point where he was practically writhing and convulsing when faced with another outburst. Furthermore, the numerous doses of Calming Draughts ceased to work, leaving the professor in a desperate mess. He ached to be rid of the damn curse. He was losing his reputation, assuming it hadn't been lost already.

Blasted student. Blasted poison. Blast! _BLAST!_

Snape's sulking thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door that startled him. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!" He yelled, jumping out of his seat, and spilling his bottle of ink. His quill had somehow left his hand only to ricochet against a glass vial with a sharp clink. The door opened and in stepped the bane of his existence, Harry Potter. "Are you okay, professor?" he asked, eyeing the discarded quill on the ground.

Snape had a curious look to his face. "Just what do you think you're wearing?"

Potter looked down and shifted his weight to and fro. "Just some muggle clothes," he muttered. "You like?" He had the most foolish-looking grin on his face that only a foolish _Gryffindor_ – Snape's eye twitched -- could produce.

"A bit tight, don't you think?"

He was right, too. Harry ran one shaking hand through his hair and adjusted his red t-shirt and dark denim jeans. The clothes were actually really uncomfortable due to the tightness, but hey, if it got his professor's attention, he would have walked down to the dungeons naked.

He had contemplated arriving nude, actually.

"No, sir. Not at all." He smiled unabashedly.

Snape cleared his throat and swallowed his frustration. "Yes, well," he pointed to a set of cauldrons on the right side of his classroom. "Get started. You will not use your wand. And fetch me my quill." The boy sighed heavily in protest, but began his detention right away. Snape resumed his work of grading essays and drank another Calming Draught.

Harry snickered every once in a while due to Snape's random fits, but he would be quickly silenced with a stern "Potter!" Aside from that, he spent his punishment in deep rumination, worrying about what he was going to do or say, and when he would go about unleashing his uncertain plan. How would Snape react to the revelation that it was he, Harry Potter, that pushed him into this entire ordeal? He had looked so enraged the previous Wednesday, after all...

_Wednesday morning, as usual, found most of the student body in the Great Hall enjoying their breakfast meals. Some were ravenously devouring their food, and others were finishing the previous night's homework. Girls were catching up on the latest school gossip, while boys were involved in heated arguments concerning Quidditch teams. The regular school routine was suspended, however, with a simple hand raised by the Headmaster, requesting silence. The clamor of the students was reduced to a confused hush in a matter of seconds. The first and second-years looked around cautiously, afraid that their safety was being challenged. The advanced years appeared to be bored, some barely looking up from their plates. _

_Dumbledore stood from his large chair in the center of the staff table and began to speak. He clasped his hands together and smiled softly. "I would just like to inform the entire student body, that our Potions Master, Severus Snape --"_

_At the mention, most students (including Harry) turned to the dark-haired man. Snape was clutching his fork tightly in his hand, and a look of volatile fury was plastered on the white face. To be honest, he looked rather constipated._

_"...may -- or may not -- be acting strangely in the coming days, as he is under an unknown spell. We are looking further into the situation, and I ask you to please excuse his erratic behavior."_

_The room was silent. Everyone was now staring at Snape as if he were a newly discovered animal species. Even some faculty members leaned onto the table to stare curiously. The herbology teacher spoke first. "What kind of behavior should we expe--"_

_"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!" Snape's eyes widened slightly and almost went unnoticed. He coughed and pounded on the table as groups of kids began to chortle. Hagrid held a large hand over his mouth and Flitwick squeaked in amusement._

_Dumbledore beamed. "Exactly that."_

Snape was going to kill the man.

Harry checked the now immaculate cauldrons one final time for any over-looked smudges. Deeming the task finished, he proceeded to walk toward the main desk.

Snape saw movement in the corner of his eye, and he looked up in time to see Potter -- Was Potter _sauntering_ towards his desk? He raised an eyebrow. "I'm finished," Harry said flatly. The boy had an odd look on his face, an emotion a bit like mischief, trickery and...lust? Snape blinked and scratched a red D on a paper with his quill. "You may go."

Honestly, the man thought bitterly, it was like no one in this bloody school knew how to properly prepare a shrinking potion. His Slytherin essays were at least somewhat relevant to the assigned topic, and some Ravenclaw papers were comprehendible, but the rest were abysmal. And, some didn't even meet the three feet requirement -- What the hell was Harry still doing there? He focused his attention on the boy again, this time with clear exasperation in his eyes. "Mr. Potter, is there something you need, or are you planning on standing there with that stupid expression on your face the entire night?"

"I did it."

"Did_ what_, Potter?"

Then realization dawned on him, and the volcano erupted.

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!" he spat, and that time, he really did mean his mantra. He rose from his desk and walked around it until he was towering over Potter. "I'VE HALF A MIND TO _CRUCIO_ YOU HERE AND NOW, YOU STUPID, STUPID BOY! WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME CAUSED YOU TO BELIEVE THAT YOU COUL--"

"Sir, I can explai--"

"I WILL PERSONALLY SEE TO IT THAT YOU WILL FAIL YOUR NEWTS--"

"Sir, please!"

"...BECAUSE THE GOLDEN BOY THINKS HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS AND WILL BE EXONERATED EITHER W--"

"PROFESSOR!"

Snape finally noticed just how close they were standing and took a few steps back in disgust. He was breathing heavily, and hesitated for a few seconds to soothe the blinding rage he was feeling.

Harry smirked as he was oddly calm now. This wasn't turning out as awful as he had pictured. He was still alive so that was a good sign. If Snape was just going to chew his head off, then he would consider himself lucky. He could handle a screaming Slytherin. Besides, the man needed his help.

"Why?" Snape finally asked. The anger in his voice was palpable.

"I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders, the shrug pulling at his shirt ever so slightly to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Snape's gaze flew down to the movement, and he noticed how_extremely_ tight the jeans and shirt were on the Gryffindor. He needed new clothes, the idiot.

"I know the solution," Potter said softly, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

"Spit it out, then!"

Silence. He saw the determination rise and flutter through the boy.

A devious smirk. "No."

Snape's breathing became ragged. "YOU FOO-- Why not!"

Harry was practically shimmering with glee. "Why should I?"

The older man was going to physically rip Potter's throat in a second or two if the boy continued to act like a stubborn toddler. "BECAUSE I DEMAND IT!"

Harry laughed softly and set his slender arms in the front of his chest. Those damned green eyes were brimming with fierce resolve. "Well, okay. But you're going to have to go on a date with me."

Snape stared. Then, gawked. Then, gaped. "And would you care to hold hands and cuddle next to my fireplace after our moonlit walk across Hogwarts grounds?" he finally gritted out, a disbelieving tone in his silky voice.

"I was thinking more of fine dining, but your idea does sound terribly romantic."

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, Potter? You've embarrassed me quite enough this week, thank you. So, give me the antidote. Now." The last word was snarled low and menacingly.

Harry merely shrugged however, and smirked, _yet again_. And it shouldn't have looked so damn natural on him. "Sorry sir, but if you want it, you're going to have to indulge me."

"Indulge you?" Snape stepped back into Potter's face, until he was inches away, their noses practically touching. "What are you playing at, Potter?" His voice dropped to a malicious whisper that sent electric shivers coursing and pulsing throughout Harry's body, his knees shaking below him and his groin stirring with delight at the tones. Nevertheless, Harry met Snape's onyx glare with his emerald eyes, and he felt a slight brush as his professor probed and peeked into his head, which was fine with him. If Snape needed to use Legilimency to assure himself that Harry was indeed not playing any games, then so be it.

Snape's eyes widened as he left the swirling depths of Harry's mind. So this wasn't a joke... How... intriguing. And yet it was the ultimate form of awkwardness. He coughed and looked around, unsure of what to do.

"You look tired, professor."

_Snape felt nothing. Only comfort. He was floating like a feather -- flying softly in an autumn breeze. He saw nothing, for he was lost in the deep darkness of his subconscious. It was here where there was no harm, no danger, just tranquility, and a deep sense of contentment. Sleep was a precious pastime, an activity that the man did not take for granted. He always looked forward to the end of the day, when he would succumb to the sweet slumber, willingly surrendered to the embrace of his fleece sheets--_

_"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"_

_He sprung upright and awoke drenched in a sticky sweat, the perspiration clinging onto his soaked pajamas. He wiped his forehead and calmed his heavy breathing and rapid heart palpitations. The tremors eventually subsided, but left a weighted sense of mortification._

_Damn this ailment. Damn it._

Finally deciding, he merely sent one last scathing look at the boy and made his way to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

"Good evening, Severus," the Headmaster greeted calmly. "Would you care for a--"

"It was Potter!" he exclaimed, dismissing whatever candy Dumbledore was about to offer. "He --FOOLISH-- poisoned me!"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore started, a hand reaching out to silence the Potions Master, "how are you so sure that he is responsible for your condition?"

"Simple," Severus said matter-of-factly. "He told me."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together in triumph. "So, when will you be cured?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "That's just it, Albus. He refuses to share the antidote." He leaned over Albus' desk. "He wants me to..." Oh, Merlin. He couldn't even say it. His eye flinched, and his hand began to tremble. That damned Potter was going to send him to an early grave.

Hmmm. Death didn't sound like a negative option at the moment.

He began again. "He proposed that I..." he toyed with his collar. "That I go on a _date_ with him." The word tasted like a bitter herb on his tongue.

To his horror, Dumbledore did not react at all like a proper sane man should have. He simply fingered his long, silver beard, his blue eyes glazed over in deep contemplation. "Well, why don't you?"

"Excuse me?" Snape's voice rose two octaves. "I would much rather court Peeves than court Potter. I will not indulge that petulant -- FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR -- little boy with a frivolous teenage pastime! I demand the cure, and I will not beat around the bush to receive it!"

"Now, Severus, you know as well as I do, that not only are Gryffindors known for their bravery, but also for their stubbornness." He took a sip of his tea, and Severus wondered how _anyone_ would think it rational to drink tea so late in the evening. The old coot was insane. "We'll discuss the consequences of Harry's actions later, but as of right now, I advise that the two of you head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow, if only to cure yourself."

He was insane, all right.

"Albus, listen to what you're saying! Surely, we can for--FOO--force the solution out of him! We can ask for Filch's hel--"

"Severus, I insist you agree to his terms. Gryffindors do not take no for an answer, and I can see that your condition is becoming rather detrimental--

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"

"--to your health, and to our students' mental health as well."

_Snape was stomping about the castle as usual, wearing the default scowl on his face and scaring children away. This hobby of his was becoming rather difficult to enjoy due to his comical "illness", but he still managed to get the job done._

_He turned a sharp corner in the second floor corridor when the urge rang like a school bell in his rib cavity, echoing loudly until his entire being was on fire. A cough sprung out of his mouth, and soon, he was slouched over, clutching his stomach and wheezing like a sick beggar. "Oh, Merlin's balls! Not again," he managed to sputter in a raspy voice. Snape placed his right hand on the wall to steady himself, but the feeble attempt was not enough. He soon clung to it, and huddled over the floor, still choking and resisting the damned potion..._

_And still, it was not enough. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!"_

_He continued to hug the wall, looking like a large ball of black jutting out of the corridor, until he regained his strength. He sighed. At least no one saw this o--_

_That infernal sobbing! He instantly recognized it and turned around to view the weeping face of Gregory Walters, cursed first-year Hufflepuff: and the new source of his nightmares. The chubby blonde boy looked more crushed than he did Tuesday morning. "I, I-I-I'm s-sorrrrryy!" he spewed in shrieks. He wiped his eyes and sniffed loudly. The sound grated on the man's nerves more than the cries of a dozen young Mandrakes. The boy sped off in the opposite direction of which Snape was headed, and thus, left the professor dumbfounded, though slightly entertained. Stupid boy._

"Poor little Gregory," Albus muttered. "Poppy had to console him, you know, and it took three hours for him to cease his crying."

Snape ignored him. "So, let's say we were in some alternate universe where I actually complied with the boy's request. Surely, you can't possibly approve of a teacher courting his student."

"Well, Severus, Harry is already of age. Technically speaking, he is free to date whomever he wishes to see, and I am unable to interfere." He popped a lemon drop in his mouth. "Besides, you both deserve a day off."

"What will the other students think when they see us in each other's company tomorrow?" Snape was desperately searching for excuses, and was coming up short.

"Invent an elaborate lie. You're both very clever. I'm sure you will find a way to avoid suspicion."

Snape was at a loss for words. "You surely cannot be serious."

"I'll cancel the supply of decaffeinated coffee every morning."

Every cloud, indeed, had its silver lining. "Agreed, then." He slammed the door on his way out of the office. Dumbledore simply smiled and retrieved a sheet of parchment from a desk drawer. He had to congratulate two Weasley brothers for their cunning meddling into others' private lives...

* * *

Snape wasn't surprised to see that Potter was still in his classroom, waiting for him to return. He found him staring at a jar of eyeballs on a top shelf curiously with a look of pure awe in his eyes. He cleared his throat to announce his arrival and Harry turned his head quickly, and smiled. "So?"

Snape frowned and reluctantly began to speak. "As much as I find your little proposal asinine, I've concluded that I have no choice in the matter. As you are well aware, this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, and as such, the Headmaster has suggested to have our little play date there, and that we fabricate a story that will propitiate any feelings of discomfort and unease by students that will undoubtedly see us together." Harry's eyes widened in delight, and he nodded, but before he could express his feelings, Snape reached forward and grabbed him by the collar, his face so close to his that he could feel Harry's warm breath on his lips. "I do not play nice, Potter. Tomorrow _will_ be the worst day you will ever have the displeasure of experiencing. My revenge will be long, and sweet, and utterly satisfying, and you will be cowering in humiliation by the time I'm finished with your FOO--...Gryffindor arse."

Harry raised an eyebrow, giving Snape a run for his money. "Is that a challenge, _Severus_?" The boy realized that their faces were inches apart, and so he licked his bottom lip. He took pleasure in watching the ferocity flicker in those black eyes as he did so. Snape let go of his shirt and whisked off to his office.

"Potter," he said without turning around.

"Hmm?"

He turned his face slightly, his profile barely viewable to Potter. "Get some new clothes. That shirt is practically ripping at the seams. You're a growing boy, and I daresay you have enough money to purchase new articles of clothing."

"Of course, _Severus._"

"Do not call me by my first name. I have no interest in reiterating what I had said regarding the _Cruciatus._"

"Whatever you say, _sir._ Get a good night's rest. I plan to ravish you tomorrow."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm ordering a salad with radishes tomorrow."

Harry bounced out of the room, leaving Snape to smolder in his own aggravation.

* * *

Author's Note: Jasmine hates me for having her beta read this fic, but I love her (for those who are asking, "Who the fuck is Jasmine?" check the author profile). Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are unnecessary, but are much appreciated. Like, really. I cry for hours when I receive one. No lie.

I can't wait for the next chapter. Fun will be had by all. Especially Harry. And especially Snape. ;)


	4. Chapter 4: The Date

Disclaimer: Just reminding you that I own none of these characters, or places, or things. Except my little Gregory. Hehe.

Warning: Crack!fic at its finest. 'Cause, you know, I'm not sane in the head.

Chapter 4: The Date

It was a perfect day for vengeance. It was a perfect day for retaliation. It was a perfect day for _justice._

Yes, justice would be served. Perhaps he'd pour Veritaserum in the boy's drink so he'd spill all of his embarrassing secrets, or maybe he'd cast a vomiting hex when Potter would not suspect foul play. And who would stop him? Sure, such infantile behavior was inappropriate and unsuitable for a teacher, and there was a high chance that should the Headmaster discover his forbidden ploy, he would be fired, but damn it! Potter had crossed the line. He had incurred Severus Snape's wrath, and now that no-good miscreant that everyone in the bloody wizarding world adored would be dragged under it. His actions were unforgivable, and the man would make sure that the boy received his merciless and painful retribution.

It was with this ranting speech that Severus Snape ascended from the dungeons and stalked into the main hall of the castle, where the seventh-years and sixth-years were lined up, anxious to visit the homely shops of Hogsmeade. A group of students smiled and giggled at the sight of their professor, as they were expecting another of his episodes to commence. Snape merely sneered in their direction and stepped forward, in between McGonagall and Dumbledore. Both of them nodded their heads in morning greeting to the dark-haired man, and Severus noticed that both had a rather knowing look implanted on their faces.

Of course the old coot would tell her.

"As always, I suggest caution and safety on this excursion. Stay on Hogsmeade grounds, and do not stray far from your fellow classmates," Dumbledore warned. Everyone had listened to his instructions one too many times, so the students just nodded and sighed impatiently. "Now, I know Professor Snape dislikes being patronized, but I am asking that a student assist him in his supervision, so there is no risk of him offending anyone during this outing."

Everyone that wasn't a Slytherin blanched at the request and took a step backward. Snape smirked, a sense of relief warming his body. Maybe he hadn't lost his reputation after all.

"Ah, Harry, thank you for volunteering!"

"But I didn't--"

"I'm sure Severus will appreciate you conceding your time."

Harry stood there in the end of the line, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. He huffed in indignation and turned back toward his two best friends, whispering angrily. Hermione frowned and was muttering under her breath, while Ron glared at all the Slytherins that were now proceeding to taunt Harry. Severus quietly observed his pupils' actions, his gaze eventually falling upon the Golden Boy. As if the boy sensed his piercing leer, the emerald eyes locked with Snape's and he furtively winked before returning his attention to his red-haired friend.

Blast.

Dumbledore finished his statements and quickly retreated back to his office, patting Severus' shoulder lightly as he left, much to the man's annoyance. Honestly.

The crowd of adolescents began to shuffle through the main castle doors with McGonagall in the lead, her dark hat slowly bobbing out of sight. Potter, however, stayed behind and walked nonchalantly toward Snape's right side, a boastful grin occupying his features. "Ready to go, _Severus_?"

Snape did not budge, feet firmly planted on the floor, arms crossed and in front of his chest. He was looking down at Potter, scrutinizing him, and slowly tearing him into shreds with one scathing look. It was utterly terrifying. "For the last time, you insolent brat. Stop. Using. My. First. Name."

Apparently though, his cruel demeanor had no effect on the boy, for the boy merely wiggled his eyebrows. "Why not? I kinda like it. It's exotic."

Snape's brow rose. He suddenly began strolling away, catching up with the large group ahead. "Mr. Potter," he called, and the boy followed. "I don't recall you ever possessing such high confidence in earlier years. Or months for that matter." He shuddered. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!! -- What the devil has gotten into you?"

Harry halted for a half-second at the older man's comment, pondering the words, before beginning to walk again -- running, actually. Snape had rather long legs, and so he took long strides. Long legs. All the better to --

"Bugger," Harry responded, scratching his head and looking up at the man, "I don't really know, sir." They walked silently for the next few minutes, bathing in the warm, spring sunlight until the boy spoke again. "I suppose it's because of the war."

"The war?" Snape asked, hiding his interest.

Harry nodded. "I was never certain of myself because I really didn't know if I was going to survive at the end or not, or if my friends would live through it all." It was the honest truth. During his previous year at Hogwarts, Harry hardly succumbed to sleep. The uncertainty of everything in his life was a rather nerve-wracking feeling, and gave him a horrible case of insomnia. Besides, one would never be able to sleep with plaguing nightmares of murder and death. When he was rewarded the capability to sleep, he would only receive two hours worth before waking in sweat, pain searing through his head and shaking feverishly.

The scary thing was, Snape knew that feeling like the back of his hand, only being free from it when his true position in the war was revealed. And it was disturbing to realize that a young boy like Potter had to endure that gut-twisting emotion every day and night. Snape deserved it, after all, for receiving that wretched tattoo on his forearm, but the boy… What did he do? And this new revelation explained a few more things, too. Snape had noticed the heavy bags under Harry's eyes in his sixth year, and it was probably the cause for his plummeting grade (though, it hardly made a difference – the boy's marks were always dreadful). Stress was unavoidable during the war, but Potter never told anyone that he wasn't sleeping. Comprehension dawned on Snape, and he suddenly felt closer to the boy. A spark of sympathy ignited deep in Severus' belly, but it was squashed down quickly. He shook his head in frustration. He was getting too damn soft.

"In this case though," Harry continued, "I don't have much to lose. I have what you need, after all, and nothing you can do can change that. I _can't_ lose." A glimmer of defiance shone in the green.

"Interesting theory, Mr. Potter," Snape gritted. "Though you will find that I do not give up so easily."

"Of course not, Severus," Harry murmured. Then, before Severus could even think of chastising Potter yet again, he felt a warm (and slightly humid) hand wrap around his right. It was firm, too, and Snape shivered at the contact. "FOO-- WHAT IN MERLIN'S --"

"Come on, we're falling behind!" Harry began to sprint, leaving Severus nothing to do but to follow behind like a child's rag doll.

* * *

"Oh, _come on_, Potter!"

Harry opened the door to The Three Broomsticks, and ushered Snape into the lively pub. It was still early in the afternoon, but the place was already crowded with good-natured witches and wizards. Laughter echoed around the room, usually followed by sharp clinks of glasses. "What?" Harry asked innocently as he maneuvered through the cramped area.

Snape shifted his eyes, attempting to avoid the awkward glances they were receiving. "Every other student will be in here, you foolish Gryffindor." The last three words were barely above a whisper, as he bit his lip to prevent the rising volume in his voice. "This little endeavor will most certainly arouse suspicion." Nevertheless, he reluctantly followed Potter to the back of the pub. He really had no choice, after all.

"No way," Harry said, finally finding a private booth and sitting opposite his professor. "They're having this huge event at Zonko's today. Most of them won't even head in here for another hour or so."

Madame Rosmerta approached their table as soon as they were seated. "Ah, Harry Potter!" she greeted ecstatically, eyes cheerful and vibrant. And then her gaze landed on Snape. He gave her his most famous scowl, frightening her from asking any questions. She merely smiled slyly before turning back to Potter. "What can I get you gentlemen?"

"Butterbeer," the boy responded with enthusiasm.

"Give me the most expensive item on the menu, Rosmerta," the older man said darkly. The bartender nodded, and promptly left the two men alone.

Harry cocked his head. "Is that your way of getting revenge?"

"Perhaps."

Silence. "Wow. You're not very good at this."

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry sighed, unsure of what to do or say at that point. He didn't think his plan would go this far, and feigning confidence was taking a toll on him. Agitated, he wiggled his fingers on the table, refusing to meet his teacher's harsh stare. "So, you're a Potions Master..."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Potter, do stop trying to make small talk, as it's painfully evident that even such a mindless task as that cannot be properly performed from you. Now, what, pray tell, caused you to bring me here?"

He didn't know why he asked it, to be frank. When he used Legilimency on the boy, the powerful feelings of lust and infatuation washed over him like the tide. It was as clear as daylight, though highly unlikely. Someone must have Imperio'd him when the brat was off his guard. Stupid boy.

"Come on, Sev -- Sir," he corrected himself after Snape gave him another malicious glare. "I just thought we'd, you know, put our differences aside, once and for all."

"Ah, I see. Well, I congratulate you. Slipping a poison into my morning beverage was a concrete strategy to obtaining my friendship."

"It wasn't poison."

Before Snape could argue, Rosmerta came back to their booth with a platter. "Here you fellows go," she said cheerily, passing Harry his butterbeer. She placed a tall glass in front of Severus, filled with a bright green liquid. "Finest in the pub, Severus. Enjoy." She winked and strolled off again.

"Bottom's up," Harry said, raising his glass and drinking his beverage. Snape rolled his eyes, and brought his glass to his lips, taking a rather large gulp of the unknown liquid. Instantly, he coughed and sputtered, choking on the blistering, burning sensation lodged in his throat. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!"

A couple of heads turned at the outburst, some gazes lingering longer than others.

"What the - hell is - this?" Snape uttered through hoarse coughs.

Harry gawked at his pink-faced professor, who finally, after some struggle, managed to keep his beverage down. The Gryffindor let out a soft chuckle and smirked. "You know, I would think that someone like you would recognize absinthe. Look, it's even the color of your House! And it's got a basic Potions ingredient!"

"What?" the man asked, obviously distracted.

"Wormwood."

"How do you know that?"

"I _only_ had to research it in essays every year! Do you even read my work or do you just fail me?"

Snape ignored him and stared at the remaining, half-full glass. "Merlin. That's strong."

Harry made an exasperated noise and rolled his eyes. "Here, I'll call Madame Rosmerta and ask her to get you firewhis--"

"Nonsense, Potter, I'm fine," Snape insisted, his pride not allowing him to simply ignore the alcohol. He drank a bit more and winced. "It gets better as you progress," he said, his voice slightly cracking.

"Of course, sir."

The next ten minutes were spent with an unbearably constrained silence, the only noise being that of gulps, clearing of throats, and glasses being placed back on the wooden table. Snape was enjoying his absinthe, however. The inferno in his stomach was settling down, and in a few minutes, it actually became quite soothing. And once he got past the burning sensation traveling down his esophagus, the drink morphed into something savory and delectable. He even ordered another one for his pleasure, instead of trying to irritate Potter.

And he wasn't irritating the boy at all. Potter would stare at him curiously, tilting his head during acute examination of Snape's actions. When they locked eyes, he would smile, a faint color rising in his cheeks.

Definitely under the Imperius curse.

"Go easy on the alcohol, sir," Harry warned when Snape's third glass arrived. "Wouldn't want you to head back to Hogwarts drunk or anything. Plus, you're burning a hole through my pocket," he added.

Snape snorted and sipped his drink. "As I am in your company, I am in desperate need of alcohol to tolerate your imbecilic notions." Another large swig. "Foolish Gryffindor," he said loudly.

"Ah, right," Harry said, grinning like a little first-year. "About the cure..."

"Yes, what of the cure?"

"It's not exactly a liquid..."

"A reverse incantation, then."

The boy shook his head. "More like an action."

Snape gave him a questioning look. He slowly registered what his pupil had said, but the haze in his mind was growing rapidly, so he barely thought about the plausibility of the boy's statement. Instead, he heard himself ask, "What are you insinuating? Judging from this stupid idea of yours," he continued, referring to the date. "I would assume I'd have to assuage one of your boyish fantasies."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "If by 'boyish fantasies,' you mean a kiss, then sure."

A blink. Snape's stare was unwavering, black eyes confined to the boy's. Then, an invisible force smacked Harry on the side of his head. "Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his tousled hair. "What'd you do that for?"

"Potter, I hate kissing." He chugged his drink down, and smacked his lips. His anger rose to new heights, but for some peculiar reason, he was still calm about the entire situation. More than calm, actually. He was frustrated beyond belief, but the foggy contentment floating around in his mind (and belly) eclipsed the negative feelings to the point where he felt a pleasing numbing sensation.

So, instead of strangling the boy to death, he laughed. He laughed heartily, and loudly, quickly grabbing the attention of everyone within a ten-foot radius. The sound, in Harry's ears, was remarkable -- A sound that he never even hoped to hear one day. And the way those onyx eyes were glittering with mirth was amazing. it was doubtful that Harry had been sitting with the same person, because this Snape, the one with his guard down and open inhibitions was someone new and profound. It was exhilarating, and a little unsettling, to say the least.

"Not a fan of kissing, then?"

"Not a fan of anything physical," the man replied, slightly grimacing. "Spreading germs? Exchanging saliva with another person? Practically bathing in another person's bodily fluids? It's filthy."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean you never...?"

But Snape shook his head. "Of course I have." He noticed Harry's lip quivering, as if he was itching to ask something, so he quelled his urge. "Both, yes, Potter, and please close your mouth, it's very unattractive. Oh, quit blushing, as well! It makes us both nervous. FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!"

(This time, no heads turned in surprise.)

It was Harry's turn to laugh. He slapped his hand on the table as he rolled his head back and cackled hysterically, tears streaming down his face.

"And what, if I may ask, is so comical?"

"This is great. You're great. You're amazing when you're drunk."

Snape felt the heat on his face. "I am _not_ drunk. A bit hungry, yes, but not drunk." The last statement was slurred slightly.

"Oh, I know the perfect place to have dessert," Harry exclaimed, a devious grin on his face, eyes shimmering like mad. He stood, placed several galleons on the table, and tugged at Snape's hand, forcing the man to stand. "It's not far from here, it'll be perfect."

Snape unwillingly followed. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!" He jerked his hand involuntarily, smacking the boy on the shoulder. Harry's brows furrowed in pain, but he trudged out of the pub nevertheless. "This place better have absinthe," Snape commented.

* * *

"No, Potter. I said. _No._"

"It won't be so bad, I promise!"

"NO! I refuse. I dismiss this ridiculous plan. I'd rather wait two more weeks until the two Weasley twins arrive back to London and aid me than to be mortified like this."

"Didn't Dumbledore (a cough) -- Professor Dumbledore tell you? They won't be back for another _four_ weeks."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Then, I'll wait four weeks. Merlin's balls, I'll _live_ like this. I am **not** going in there, and that's fina -- FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!"

"...Coming in?"

"...Yes." Snape let out a defeated sigh and entered Madam Puddifoot's.

* * *

It was disgusting. Repulsive. Truly nauseating. Snape stared at the bubblegum pink walls in revulsion. This was hell. It must be. He poked the lacy napkins and doily in the center, afraid that they would come to life and wrap him in a deathly grip of _cuteness. _The man scanned the room, black eyes in a panic. There were couples everywhere! Some were loudly smooching over their teacups, hands laced with their partner, ensnared in their own sweet reverie. Others had their heads set delicately in their hands, blinking furiously and refusing to break eye contact with each other.

And then there were a few couples, just eyeing him and Harry inquisitively. He even recognized two Ravenclaw students with a look of pure shock etched on their faces. A girl from across the room giggled in an annoying high-pitched tone, and shrieked, "That is_ so_ adorable!"

Adorable? Not to mention immoral, cruel, deceiving, wrong, and putrid. So, this was how Harry was going to play, then? All right. The boy had no idea what was coming to him.

Madame Puddifoot bounced into view immediately after they were seated. Her bright and chipper face drooped slightly when she realized whom she was serving, but only for a second. She grinned happily and squeaked out her greeting. "Good afternoon, gentlemen! What can I get you this fine day?"

"I'll have a --"

"_We'll_ have a plate of chocolate éclairs, Madame," Snape interjected, cupping Harry's hand into his in the center of their table. It might have been the alcohol surging through his blood, but at the moment, he felt it was the right plan to grate on Potter's nerves, and he was correct in his theory. The surprise on Potter's face was priceless. For a finishing touch, Snape beamed at his student, and attempted at batting his eyelashes at the boy.

"Sir, are your eyes irritating you?"

The dark-haired man's face fell. "No," he responded with a cough. "That will be all."

The plump woman nodded and ran off, humming an upbeat tune.

"Sir," Harry said, amusement evident in his voice. "You can let go of my hand now. People are staring."

Severus turned around and sure enough, everyone in the room was staring in astonishment. Though, he didn't care at all at this point. Potter brought him down to this level, and... Well, he was having fun, dare he think it.

"Let them stare, _darling_. Why should we be embarrassed?"

To his horror, Harry batted his eyes (perfectly, Snape mused) and winked. "You're right, _Sev_, as always. Where would I be without you?"

He heard one of the Ravenclaws gasp. A couple in front of their table merely squealed in hysterics.

"You won't win," Snape whispered.

"Watch me."

"I think you look absolutely marvelous today, dear," Snape loudly commented.

"Well, I do know how you lose your mind whenever I wear red, Snapie-poo."

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!' A snicker. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Berkeley!"

* * *

Madame Puddifoot found Severus and Harry locked in an epic staring contest at their table. Both men looked in pain, and ready to have a seizure in the ensuing moments. Their eyelashes were moving rapidly, almost inhumanly fast, and their smiles were horrifying, appearing to be too large for their faces. "Ahem," she said, announcing her presence and setting the tray of desserts on the table. "Enjoy, gentlemen." She then moved on to the table next to them, setting an even larger plate of chocolate éclairs on the table.

Snape sneered at the platter. "Revolting," he said, watching Puddifoot lay napkins on the adjacent table. "One must be a pig to eat so much. FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!"

The round woman sashayed away (but not before giving Snape a dirty look), and the man cringed as his vision was now unblocked and was face-to-face with that _damn kid! _Merlin be damned! The blonde boy had conspicuous smudges of chocolate on the sides of mouth, obvious that the plate was a round of seconds, and of course he had tears threatening to trail down his cheeks. "I... I-I-I I'm s-o-rryyyy!"

"Mr. Walters, you are a first-year, so please do explain how you are managing to sit in this cafe when you clearly have no permission to do so. Thirty points from Hufflepuff."

"I JUST WANTED TO FIT IN!!" The rebuked Hufflepuff shrieked, interrupting everyone's meals (and those who didn't notice Snape and Harry definitely did so now). Gregory ran out of the shop, but not before snatching some pastries and shoving them into his pockets.

"Who was that?"

"The bane of my existence."

"I thought I was your bane of existence." Harry frowned, and Snape rolled his eyes, ignoring the boy's comment.

"As I was saying, these desserts hardly look appetizing."

"Sir, you find nothing appetizing," Harry said, as he took a bite of an éclair. Realizing he said too much, he shrugged and looked down at the plate. "I've uh, observed."

"You _watch_ me while I eat?"

"Sir, you catch me staring all the time."

"I always assumed you were just sulking. Here," Snape grabbed a pastry and gripped Harry's face with one hand, causing the boy's heart beat to accelerate and palpitate rapidly. He was about to burst, he was sure of it. "Put it in your mouth."

Harry blushed, eyes widening at the innuendo. "I -- Sorry?"

"I'm going to feed you, love," Snape loudly announced, smiling creepily and brushing a long digit against the boy's cheek. Harry opened his mouth in protest, but Severus forcefully shoved the long bread into his mouth at the chance. He brought his hands back and smiled triumphantly, chuckling as he watched Harry choke.

"You're -- enjoying this -- too much," Harry wheezed, swallowing a large chunk of dough.

"I am," Snape admitted, black eyes glimmering. And the confession sobered him up, though the overwhelming sensation of peace and... Dare he say it, happiness, did not leave his body. The day was turning out to be really entertaining. Snape hadn't laughed since... Well, he _never_ laughed. Maybe that was Potter's plan all along, to get his hated Potions Master drunk and act like a shameless teenager in public, where all could see. Goddamn. He was losing concentration! The only reason he agreed to this shenanigan was to humiliate Potter, and get even.

Yes, back to the main reason why he was there. He watched Potter lick chocolate off his fingers with a stony gaze, waiting for the boy to let his guard down. When the boy reached for another pastry, Snape recited a Latin phrase under his breath and looked out the heart-shaped window to the side, acting innocent and naïve. "Did you say something?" Harry asked in a muffled voice, mouth full of food.

"Mr. Potter, you are not a beast, despite what your wild mop of hair may insinuate. Please chew your food and refrain from talking when doing so. It is very rude."

"Right," Harry ignored, continuing to speak. He proceeded in talking about the final match between Gryffindor and Slytherin and how exciting it turned out to be, but Snape's mind was far from Quidditch at the moment. He waited patiently, eager for the charm to settle…

Suddenly, Harry stopped speaking, and looked down at his stomach, rubbing it softly. He groaned almost inaudibly, and jumped out of his seat. "I'llberightback," he said quickly, and ran off awkwardly to the boy's washroom, hands glued to his bottom. A few people noticed the predicament that Harry was in and laughed mockingly. Snape leaned back into his chair and silently congratulated himself for a job well done. A tiny sliver of guilt began to inch its way toward his conscience, but he rationalized his actions. Harry started this. He deserved it.

Ten minutes later, Potter made his way back to the table, face red with fury. Snape smirked and shrugged smugly. "Couldn't handle your food, Potter?"

"You git!" he shouted, and a few people turned to look. "I go out of my way to get this antidote for you, and this is how you repay me?"

Snape stood up quickly. "_Repay_ you? If you hadn't –FOOLISH GRYF-- poisoned me in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, I DIDN'T POISON YOU!"

Harry advanced toward the entrance, stomping his feet as he went. He turned the knob and turned back to numerous pairs of eyes on him, though he was far too angry to notice them. "And you can forget about the cure, because you're not getting it from me!" With that, he slammed the door, but not before hearing a shouted, "DETENTION, POTTER!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Snape muttered under his breath, feeling glares now transfixed on his sallow face. Madame Puddifoot rushed to where he was standing and looked genuinely concerned. "Oh dear," she said. "That was a terrible lover's spat—"

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" He jerked his arm, hitting the woman in the face. "Damn it all, I need that cure!" He stormed out of the café in hopes of finding a sulking teen, but to no avail.

And just when things were beginning to sort themselves.

* * *

Author's Note: I apologize that this update took so long. I was lacking in the motivation department, and then I stumbled upon a roadblock in the middle of writing, so I was like WHATTTT. And, I also apologize for any mistakes. I didn't have a beta reader for this chapter, so, you know. At least this chapter's slightly longer than the rest, eh? Longcat is long. Reviews, again, make me extremely giddy, to an almost dangerous extent, so I suggest reviewing.


	5. Chapter 5: A Temporary Fix

Chapter 5: A Temporary Fix

Harry Potter ran downstairs to the Gryffindor common room the following Monday morning, where he found his two best friends already waiting for him. Ron was sitting lazily on a red lounge chair while his girlfriend was standing next to the seat, impatiently tapping her foot on the floor. When she saw Harry, she gave him a reproving look, and Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, guys. I was uh, you know..." He rubbed his head nervously and avoided eye contact.

Ron chuckled and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, you need to be more careful with your food. And you, too, Ronald! You're laughing now, but you boys eat like pigs! It's no surprise that Harry got the runs!"

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, flushing a bright red. He tilted his head to the left, nudging towards a group of fifth-year girls who were eavesdropping on their conversation. Three of them giggled annoyingly and waved at Harry while two of them scoffed. "Anyway, I think it's all gone now, so let's just go on to Transfiguration class, all right?"

"Whatever you say, mate," Ron replied. He rose from the chair and slapped Harry on the back as he walked towards the entrance. Harry and Hermione followed, and so the trio merrily went on their way towards their first class. For the most part, Harry's irritation toward Snape and his actions had subsided. It was inconvenient, yes, and slightly painful, but everything was out of his system now, so there really was no use in crying over spilled milk. Besides, he expected to have the man react in a vengeful and petty manner.

What Harry didn't expect was Snape leering down at him the moment he left the safety of the Gryffindor common room.

The three students stopped dead in their tracks when they saw their professor standing outside the entrance, leaning backwards on the banister, arms and ankles crossed. He looked extremely tired and pale. The effect of the potion was really beginning to deteriorate his physical appearance. Ron and Harry gulped loudly at the sight. "Oh, er, good morning, professor," Hermione managed to utter after a few seconds of thick silence.

"Potter," Snape said slowly, "Give me the antidote." He stated the command with such caution and precision, enunciating each syllable, that Harry involuntarily shuddered, and didn't realize the man was expecting an answer until he felt three pairs of eyes on him.

Harry had two ways of dismantling the bomb that was sure to explode in any second: He would either oblige Snape, give him the antidote, and hope for mercy, or he would feign ignorance. He went with the latter.

"I'm sorry, professor, but I have no clue what you're taking about." Harry proceeded to walk downstairs, but Snape swiftly moved out of his position against the banister and stopped Harry with a firm hand against the boy's chest. Harry swore Ron's face turned purple at the sight.

"Potter, you stupid boy, do you really know with whom you are dealing? I've told you, _I don't play nice_." His face was centimeters away from Harry. Their noses were touching and it was taking Harry a large amount of strength to resist doing anything inappropriate.

Instead, Harry grabbed the hand in front of him and shoved it out of his way, holding the physical contact longer than necessary. "And I told you, I _don't know_ what you want." He gave the man an icy glare before giving his best friends a 'Let's get out of here' look. They complied and they were rushing down the moving staircase, but not before hearing a loud, "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" being yelled.

"Blimey, Harry, that man is off his rocker," Ron commented angrily, once out of view and earshot. Then, he hesitantly added: "You don't know what he was goin' on about... right?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione turned to her boyfriend, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Of course he does! Please tell me you're not that slow, Ron! Harry _poisoned_ Professor Snape!"

. Harry braced himself for the inevitable argument looming above their heads. "Okay," Harry said. He waved his arms in front of Hermione's face and looked around frantically. "Not so loud! Everyone will hear you. And for the last time, I didn't _poison_ him!"

"You're lucky you're still here, Harry! If Snape tells Dumbledore, and I'm quite surprised he hasn't --"

"Bloody hell!" Ron interrupted, eyes shiny and wide. He had the cheesiest smile on his face, and before he knew it, Harry was being subject to the most excruciating bear hug he'd ever received. "YOU'RE BRILLIANT! Absolutely brilliant! Wait 'til I tell Dean and Seamus and Neville about this, they--"

"NO!" Harry yelled, and clamped his hand around Ron's mouth. Hermione watched the scene unfold in annoyance. "No one can know! If Snape finds out that I told anyone, he'll kill me!"

"He should!" Hermione exclaimed, "Why'd you do it, Harry?"

"Because he's brilliant!"

Harry merely shrugged. "I... thought it'd be funny," he lied, hoping that it would suffice for the time being. Ron shook his head in astonished disbelief and said, "Wow." Hermione, however, narrowed her eyes. She was contemplating something. "What is it, Hermione?"

"It's just rather odd and out of character for Snape to ask you for the antidote, instead of telling the Headmaster about what you did." She continued when she realized that her two friends weren't following her train of thought. "C'mon, we know that Snape has always had it in for Harry. This could easily get you expelled from Hogwarts, and yet, you're still here. It's strange."

Harry had nothing to say to that because he knew she was right, for the most part. Snape HAD gone to Dumbledore, but what they talked about was unknown to him. He had assumed that by the way that the man had stormed out of his classroom during Harry's detention, that he had gone to Dumbledore to rant and demand for his expulsion. However, he had returned and agreed to Harry's deal with Dumbledore's consent. Had the Headmaster approved and encouraged Snape to comply? The idea was ludicrous. Then, Harry's heart sank. Perhaps Snape had asked for permission? Teacher-student relationships weren't exactly popular, anyway. But if Snape had done just that, then that meant…

But it was impossible. The only plausible explanation was that Dumbledore approved, probably because of the now false pretense that Snape would be cured. And then Harry met another roadblock. Since he, in fact, did not cure Snape, then why didn't he go back to Dumbledore and tell him of his deception? Surely, that would have pissed him off. And yet, he was still requesting the cure, despite the fact that Harry would have to kiss him –

It was a kick in the gut. Snape wanted to kiss him! Of course not, he told himself instantly. He just wanted to be cured… But it didn't make sense! Snape wasn't drunk anymore, and so he must know that there was no possible way that a disease or condition could be cured by an uninfluenced action. So… what did all this mean? He was running in circles, heading nowhere, which reminded him of the now impending wrath of McGonogall that they would face if the three were late.

"Anyway," Harry began, once he cleared his mind. He didn't even realize that the couple had begun to quarrel. "We've got five minutes to get to class, so can we go?"

That was enough for Hermione to stop chastising her boyfriend, for which said boyfriend was grateful. "Oh, we're late!" She scrambled out of their view, and the boys sighed and trudged onward.

* * *

"The antidote," Snape loudly said once he found Harry's head through the crowd of students exiting McGonogall's classroom. His tone of voice was ferocious and nerve-wracking. However, Harry had predicted that he'd find Snape waiting for him at the end of his class, so he had prepared himself for imminent ambush.

"No," he responded strongly, and made his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione and Ron followed suit, but to their misery, so did Snape.

"You sure this is the way to go about it, Harry?" Ron whispered under his breath as he caught up to his friend.

"He's following us," Hermione said. Harry turned slightly and saw that Snape was indeed, stalking behind them. Some students took notice, and began whispering to each other, most likely guessing on what Harry could have done to have the most feared professor at Hogwarts following him like a wild animal did to prey.

They walked up the stairs, but they still heard the stomping of boots behind them. "Doesn't he have a class," Ron asked softly.

Harry whipped around to face Snape. "Sir, don't you have a class?"

"Antidote. Now."

"No."

"Potter..."

"I told you, you won't be getting it from me."

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!"

Ron snorted, but was silenced by a sharp jab to the ribs, courtesy of Hermione. Harry scowled. "Senile Slytherin," he retorted. Ron and Hermione's eyes widened, and they were both praying that the man didn't hex their friend to another dimension.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said coolly. "And I do hope that you haven't forgotten about your detention this evening in the dungeons."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry replied with a sly grin. He turned back around to head into his next class, and though no one spoke, the trio knew that their professor followed them all the way there.

* * *

Harry became increasingly frightened as the day progressed. Wherever he went, Snape was there. He found the man leering at him at the end of his DADA class, and Snape had the nerve to follow him outside for his break. In fact, were he not stopped by McGonogall asking him for his assistance, Snape probably would have continued on his stalking plans.

Which he did, much to the boy's dismay. Harry released a sigh of relief when he proceeded into the Herbology greenhouse and then almost urinated in his trousers when he saw those black eyes burning holes through him. "Professor Snape?" someone had asked, but the man paid no attention. He was murdering Harry in his mind, skinning him alive and feeding his bloody remains to wild Thestrals.

Lunch was no different. It was like Snape's eyes were stuck on him, his gaze impossible to move on to another sight. In his Potions class, the tension was so toxic, he felt himself slowly dying from asphyxiation. Worst of all, _everyone_ had noticed Snape's odd behavior and began to pester Harry for answers.

"What'd you do, Harry?" Dean had asked in Charms, "We've all seen Snape following you around like a creep."

Harry sighed. "Is Snape acting like a greasy git really a big surprise?"

Dean had no answer to that.

All the excitement caused a desperate urgency in Harry's bladder, so he kindly asked Professor Flitwick if he could use the bathroom. Harry scurried off into the washroom, and found it empty. He smiled, finally satisfied, content, and oh-so-_elated_ to have a little bit of privacy, if only for a few minutes. He whistled jovially as he opened an empty stall. He unzipped his pants, took hold of his little Potter, and went to work. It really was a nice day, Harry observed, despite the weirdness of the past week. And soon, he'd be leaving. It was a bittersweet feeling, but for the most part, he was rather relieved to --

And then he felt it.

Needles prickling up and down his back. An icy cold filling his lungs, as if he was immersed in freezing waters. It was like a dementor had entered the room, though he knew, he _knew_, that the presence in the room was no dementor...

Reluctantly, he raised his head and looked to the left, and just like a mole popping out of its muddy, earthy burrow, he saw Snape's face slowly appear into view, peering from the stall next to his. The man completely disregarded the fact that he was standing on a toilet and watching his student _take a piss _for the time being, and began his onslaught of demands.

"Potter. Give me the antidote."

"SNAPE!!"

Harry zipped himself up and stormed out of the stall, backing away from his professor who lunged himself at the student. He grabbed the front of Harry's robes and breathed down his face. "FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!! I expect you to give me the cure this evening when you serve detention. Failure in complying will result in agonizing embarrassment that only a FOO -- Slytherin can wreak upon a person's head." He shoved the boy backward, and Harry's bottom collided with the sharp corner of the sink. He cried out, but Snape had already left.

Wow, that was creepy. Still shivering from the traumatic experience, Harry washed his hands and ran back to the safety of the Charms classroom.

* * *

_Appalling excuse for an essay, Mr. Walters_, Snape scribbled on the first-year's paper in red ink. _Perhaps if you spent more time studying and researching, and less time engorging your face in the Great Hall, you would produce a mediocre essay. I also advise that you _**stop eating **_whilst completing your assignments, so as to avoid greasy and repulsive food stains on your parchment, like this _(he circled a dark stain) _and this _(another stain).

A knock echoed in the murky dungeon. "Enter," Snape commanded, gritting his teeth in bubbling anticipation. He looked up and snorted. Potter was wearing those damned, tight, Muggle clothing again. This time he was in a dark, Slytherin green. He looked rather dashing in the color, the man mused. Pity.

"You will scrub the floors, clean the cauldrons, and re-label all Potions ingredients. No magic." He sneered. "You've got quite the work ahead of you, Mr. Potter." The boy huffed and without any word to Snape, grabbed an old bucket from the corner of the room and began to work.

Snape observed that the boy was actually working quite diligently that night -- Not that he was watching the boy. Not at all. Besides, it was hard not to notice how quickly Potter was running to and fro, scrubbing furiously at a desk and picking at tarry residue on a cauldron. In fact, he might have been working _too_ hard. The boy was beginning to sweat, and the usual peach complexion was now a bright pink. He was hunched over the floor, wiping a sticky stain off the floor, pink tongue protruding slightly from his mouth…

"Sir, may I ask why you're watching me clean?"

If Snape weren't an expert liar, he might have stuttered. "I'm just making sure you're actually performing well on your duties."

The boy looked up and smiled weakly. Snape noticed that the rosy color had vanished, and a sallow color began to develop. Idiot.

"Potter," Snape called, "Did you eat this evening?"

After a moment's hesitation, the boy under question shook his head. "No, sir."

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" Snape sighed, irked that he was still suffering from the condition. "Why not, you stupid boy?" Potter blinked. Exasperated, Snape stood up and cracked his fingers. "Sit," he ordered, and the boy obeyed, taking a seat in a desk in front of Snape's. His professor approached the desk next to Potter's and moved it in front of Harry's seat. "I suppose I can have my ingredients re-labeled another time. No doubt you'll serve another detention in the coming days. For now, I refuse to have a passed out Gryffindor on my floor, so come and eat."

Potter said nothing, though the look in his eyes said it all. He was surprised at his seemingly nice gesture. Yes, it was out of character for the man, but he was a Slytherin. Slytherins will do anything to get what they want, and if he needed to treat the boy on a second date to rid him of his ailment, then Merlin be damned.

He shivered. This was not a second date.

"This is like a second date," Potter said when their food arrived. "You know, I'm actually surprised that I haven't heard any rumors about what happened on Saturday. There were at least three couples in Puddifoot's place."

"I assume the students wish to have their recollection of what occurred removed from their head."

"Probably." Harry quickly dug into his beef roast and commenced eating like he had been starving for a week. Snape frowned and began his ritual of shuffling food around his plate.

There were a few minutes of loud chewing and scraping of utensils on china glass. And then, "What are your hobbies, sir?"

Snape gawked. "Excuse me?"

"Hobbies. I mean, I doubt you just create potions all day, right? What do you do in your spare time?"

The man stabbed his meat with his knife and glared. "Potter, what is the meaning of this?"

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, professor. Saturday you told me about your sexual history, I'm sure you can tell me abo -- Sir, are you _blushing_?" The boy grinned and ducked under his seat to avoid the back of Snape's hand.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape finally said after Potter stopped laughing. "And_, no._ I don't spend every waking hour of my day brewing potions. Imbecile. I enjoy reading." He finally raised a spoonful of his dinner to his mouth and chewed in a robotic fashion.

"You seemed like the sexy bookworm type," Potter replied jokingly, unaware that Snape had heard his murmured response. He looked up from his plate and found his teacher giving him a disbelieving look. "What?"

"That is it." Snape dropped his utensils on the makeshift dining table. "Who has you under the _Imperius_ curse?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Because I certainly don't recall you ever possessing these disturbing and _inappropriate_ desires for me in the past."

"Wait," Potter interrupted, scratching his head, "You think I'm under the Imperius curse?"

"There's no other explanation," Snape continued. He began to cut his potatoes into neat squares. "You certainly never possessed these inappropriate feelings of lust and desire in the past months. Considering our volatile history, I doubt you would develop this little fixation on your own. Plus, I am not thought to be an extraordinarily attractive man. The only possible explanation of your recent actions is that you, Mr. Potter, are cursed. After you finish your meal, we will inform the Headmaster of your situation. He will know what to do."

"Snape, I'm not cursed."

The man arched a dark brow, but neither pressed the issue. They finished their dinner, falling into a comfortable silence. Potter would ask a question from time to time, and Snape would burst into a coughing fit, but all was well.

"The antidote," Snape finally urged, after pushing his plate away from himself, indicating that he was finished. The student, too, was done, and the two plates vanished from their presence.

Harry looked up to the ceiling, contemplating the request. "I don't know, sir. It was pretty embarrassing having to go to the bathroom every half hour."

"And _my_ condition is not the least bit humiliating?" Potter shook his head, causing Snape mild irritation. They both stood from their seats, Snape returning to his main desk and Potter placing the seats they ate in back to their old position. "I do hope you are aware that you will be serving detention each and every day that I am under the potion's effects."

Then, to his surprise, Potter appeared in front of him immediately, those green eyes the color of that delicious absinthe he was craving. The boy looked into his black eyes. "I guess we have to do something about that." And then he felt a soft pressure on his lips, something strange and foreign yet not displeasing. It was a bit wet, too, and he felt a slight tugging of his lower lip, but he had no idea what was happening, although he wished he knew what it was and -- _oh_.

Disgusting! Repulsive! Nauseating! Other similes for just plain gross! …Potter tasted like cherries. Fresh, ripe, delicious, red cherries, the color of sin, and forbidden desires… Or perhaps it was more of an apple flavor, like the forbidden fruit that no one dared to touch… and for Merlin's sake; the boy was reducing him to thinking up pseudo poetic analogies to compare the wet and soft touch of his lips. This was insane, and yet Harry's hand on his face was pressing desperately on the side of his face, attempting with all its might to keep Snape from returning back to reality. Merlin, the way his tongue grazed his lips should be deemed illegal. One of them let out a small cry, and Snape prayed to all the deities in the sky that it wasn't him. He didn't even begin to think of all the germs they were shari -- _Oh shite._

Snape pushed the boy away, and took a few steps back, leaning against his desk, his hands gripping the sides. "What are you doing, you foolish boy?"

"Curing you," Potter responded, seeming unaffected by everything that just occurred. He wiped his bottom lip with an index finger, and Snape couldn't help but notice that it was swollen and plumped into a pout. He shivered, and almost didn't hear the rest of the boy's sentence: "If only for a day or two. See you Thursday. I'll bring sweets." He walked towards the classroom door and left as quickly as it all happened.

Bugger. Snape looked down at the large tent contained in his trousers.

They didn't call him The Golden Boy for nothing.

* * *

Author's Note: Gah. I beg for your forgiveness -- I blame school and the massive amount of work and exams that determine my future for my lack of updates. I hate reality. I'm trying my best to hurry, though. I can't rush these things -- 'cause then I'll just write whatever comes to mind, and you'd probably get like. I don't know. Exotic dancer!Snape or something.

Jonesing: This is actually my first HP fic I've written. Snarry is my OTP though, despite the fact that I'm maliciously slaughtering them in this fic. Bwahaha. It's just what I do. Anyway, I'd LOVE to write more Snarry fics in the coming future -- It's just rather difficult thinking of story ideas. I will write more (unfortunately for all of you :D). Hell, maybe I'll improve along the way and eventually write a serious story. But, my next one will probably be another crack!fic. If I manage to think of anything.

I apologize for my rambling. Reviews make me happy, as always stated.


	6. Chapter 6: War

Warning: If you didn't believe me before that this is a crack fic at its best (...or worst), then, please do so now. OHOHOHOHOHHOO.

Chapter 6: War

Now, Severus Snape did not think himself a brooding man. He might sulk, and complain, and rant, and stalk about the castle, loathing all his asinine pupils, but he never dwelled on certain matters or events. And yet, he could not stop pondering over that blasted boy! Harry James Potter. Hero of the Wizarding World. Bane of his existence. Seventh-Year Student. Cherry-Tasting Man-Boy.

And would it feel the same if they repeated their actions? Taste the same? Severus shuddered at the thought, not because it was revolting and forbidden, but because he felt Potter's lips ghost over his at that moment. No, not even revolting... or forbidden. He was of legal age, after all. And he was to graduate in two weeks... What was the harm in a teacher-student relationship?

Everything.

Damn it all! His resolve was slipping. He shouldn't have let Potter approach him in such close proximity in the first place! Why was he growing fond of -- No. Not fond. He was just growing tolerant. There was a difference. Was there a difference? What was he talking about? Ah, yes. The cherries. Sweet, plump, delicious, red cherries, the vibrant and daring red of the Gryffindor house...

"Sir?"

"What?" he responded viciously.

"Sorry, professor, but, well... Class started twenty minutes ago, and you've just been standing there with a blank expression on your face. We just, er, wanted to know if you were feeling fine?"

"Your concern, Mr. Park, is touching. However, your tardiness in responding to my lax in teaching is unacceptable. Ten points from Ravenclaw." Many Ravenclaws groaned, and one whispered in an unintentionally loud tone: "I liked him better when he had Tourette's."

The Potions Master smirked. Okay, so he wasn't slipping after all. At least, not in front of his other students. So why did he blunder around one particular Gryffindor? He was clueless as to why his guard was always down when it came to the boy. It was ludicrous, especially after going through his condition and his disastrous date with said boy. With a glare, Snape flicked his wand and instructions were magically written on the board. "Diligence," he stated as he sat down, ostensibly grabbing a pile of already-graded papers, making it seem as if he were doing something else other than thinking about Harry bloody Potter.

A frightening thought silently crept into Snape's brain--Did Potter truly _like_ him? Quite frankly, the entire situation was unsettling. It was rather mind-boggling to accept the fact that his life was changed over a stupid prank potion, all in a matter of a week. It was also completely out of character of him to actually endure Potter's presence. But he _did_ enjoy the boy's company.

All right, he thought. So you like the boy's friendship. Anything else?

The cherries, damn it. Merlin, the taste still lingered in the caverns of his mouth. It was so overwhelming, even after a poor night's sleep, and a rigorous session of dental hygiene. But just like the boy, the flavor refused to go away. Worst of all, Snape wanted more of it, wanted more of the toxin throwing all his senses, values, morals, and beliefs in a frenzy.

He needed to talk to Potter. He needed more cherries.

So, naturally, he schemed of ways to continue embarrassing the boy wonder.

--

After eighteen hours of careful consideration, Severus decided on a perfect way to humiliate that damned adolescent. Perhaps with this ploy, the boy would be too mortified to continue with their little war, and consequently, surrender altogether.

One can always hope.

It was probably due to this wishful thinking that Snape was wholeheartedly enjoying his eggs that Wednesday morning. The house elves truly outdid themselves for this breakfast meal. The toast was divine, and his black coffee was that strong, bitter flavor that he loved. Everyone was also acting tolerable today. All the faculty members were engrossed in their conversations, and were not so much as blinking in the man's direction. And, best of all, Albus was not present in the Hall, as he had business to attend to somewhere else. Frankly, it was a perfect morning, and seeing Potter arrive into the Great Hall with the redheaded pest and the insufferable know-it-all was the icing on the cake. He could barely suppress his smirk, and prayed that the stupid boy wouldn't notice.

He watched the boy sit down with his friends. Granger and Weasley began conversing with Longbottom and Finnigan while Potter ravenously dug into his meal. Potter looked up and locked eyes with the female Weasley, smiling widely. The girl blushed, and soon, they, too, were chatting incessantly.

A cold... _something_ ignited in his stomach.

Must be the food.

Snape pushed the ugly emotion out of his mind, and decided that now was a good time as any, since the boy was so damn focused in his conversation. Severus took a sip of his drink, and grabbed his napkin, passing it over his lips in just enough time to mutter a charm. A startled cry immediately echoed across the walls. Snape's attention turned to the boy, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing maniacally at the sight of Potter.

In a dress.

Weasley's face blanched at the sight. "H-Harry?" Snape heard him utter. His younger sister's mouth fell, obviously rendered speechless (and Snape could not pinpoint why exactly he was happy that she witnessed this spectacle). Granger brought a hand to her mouth and gawked, her eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets.

Of course, they were not the only ones to notice. Students from all four tables gaped at the boy, ogling at his new and bizarre choice of wardrobe. Hufflepuffs blushed, and some Ravenclaws were talking among themselves, most likely trying to find a possible culprit. Gryffindors were glaring at Slytherins, and Snape's beloved Slytherins were smiling smugly, not even attempting to feign innocence. It was typical Slytherin behavior at best. After all, Snape knew that the Slytherins were well aware that no one in their house was to blame for this escapade. They were too damn proud to not share details of pranks with their fellow snakes, especially those involving Potter. Watching them take the credit, Snape was almost impressed at how well they played their guilty roles.

But back to Potter. Who was now standing in the middle of the Great Hall like an idiot. In a dress. Oh, Snape thought himself a genius, sometimes.

The dress was a rich, hunter green, strapless and short, almost three inches above Potter's knees. The dress came with matching heels, but the boy promptly threw them off. No matter, Snape thought. He would have tumbled onto the floor and humiliated himself even more. And Snape wasn't done with him yet. The dress was hilarity in itself, but Potter's face--Oh, his face! His green eyes were fluttering to and fro from each laughing and taunting student. He continuously stared around the Hall, to the Ravenclaw table, back to his outfit, back to the Slytherin table, to his friends, and to the dress. He futilely attempted to cover himself with his limbs, though it was doing nothing.

His face was the color of freshly picked cherries.

Snape could have come right then and there.

Unfortunately, bigger matters were at hand. There was a long moment's hesitation, but everyone overcame their shock, and there was a surge of angry professors standing from their chairs. Potter's friends stood to hide him from all eyes, but this action just caused other students to stand from their designated table and walk closer to get a better look. "In your seats!" Minerva commanded. She motioned for the other teachers to start calming the students down, and turned to Severus, giving him a stern look. Snape caught on and rose then, putting on a blasé expression as he sauntered over to the Slytherin table. Minerva followed suit with a death glare on her face. "Well, well," Snape began, folding his arms in front of his chest. "And who exactly, is responsible for this inappropriate, albeit amusing, show?"

His students glanced at one another. Silence, just as he expected. He sighed, anyway. He certainly did not want to give himself away. "The longer you withhold information, the more gruesome your punishment wi--"

Then, instantly, he felt a cool breeze pass by his person as Minerva gasped beside him. Jeers, claps, and whistles were heard, and his Slytherins paled in shock. He almost didn't want to look down to confirm tha--

Oh, yes. His pants were gone. Revealing his **red** boxers.

And in just two seconds, the entire Great Hall exploded into chaos. Howling laughter reverberated in the room, followed by furious orders from teachers. "To your seats," Minerva reiterated, but her voice went unheard under the roar of the students. Sprout was yelling and flailing her arms about, in hopes of solving everything but to no avail. The shuffling of feet trampled Filius' squeaking, and Snape could faintly hear the shutter of Colin Creevey's camera from a distance, grimacing as the flash went off on his face. Most of the students were now out of their seats to take a closer look at either himself, or Potter--_POTTER!_

His head immediately turned to the smirking Gryffindor. He stomped toward him. "Why -- you -- insolent -- little -- brat--"

"Severus!" Minerva chimed in from behind him. She pushed children out of her way and placed a hand in front of her to stop the man from coming any closer to her cherished boy hero. Her hair was frazzled and her glasses askew. "You can't possibly believe that the boy--_Mr. Creevey, cease and desist!_ -- did all this?"

Severus paid no attention her and growled, pushing Potter's confounded friends out of his way. "I will make sure you pay for this," he said in low, dangerous tones to the boy, nearing the boy's face until their noses were touching. And the boy just blinked, face still red, and eyes livid, and goddamn, he wanted to punch the boy...

Or something else.

"Now, Severus," Minerva started with a scolding tone. Severus turned around, scoffed and paid one final scathing look at Potter before attempting to storm out of the Hall.

It was not very effective, obviously.

--

And so the next two days continued with explosive attacks on both sides. Harry, in fact, suffered a rather severe nosebleed when he was subject to a tripping hex--down a flight of stairs. He spent a good half-hour in the infirmary listening to Pomfrey scold him for his clumsiness. He got his revenge however during another chaotic meal in the Great Hall. Everyone gasped as thousands of cockroaches burst forth out of Snape's dessert pie. This caused another riot, as everyone (even staff members) pushed their dessert away and retched at the scene. Dumbledore (who was sorely disappointed at missing the Great Hall Massacre) had to assure the entire student body (and faculty) that Hogwarts was clean and sanitary, which was no daunting task. No one thought it as abnormal as Snape in his boxers, anyway.

However, nothing could save Severus from the humiliation in his Thursday morning class, when his hair, _mysteriously_ fell off as he was lecturing. He stopped mid-sentence, perplexed by everyone's widened eyes. That was, until he made eye contact with a deviously smirking Potter. He raised a hand to his bald scalp, gasped, and narrowed his eyes at the boy. Snape opened his mouth, but no words were uttered--He was speechless.

And to make matters worse, his condition had returned with a vengeance. He was cursing his hated house once every five minutes, much to the amusement of every Hogwarts pupil.

This war was becoming as arduous as the war with Voldemort.

Snape was getting exhausted, and Potter knew it. And the boy ravished in his pride and victory. He could tell by the way in which he sauntered into the dungeons on Thursday evening. "Good evening, professor," he cheerfully proclaimed, sitting on a desk. "Your hair's grown back, I see."

Snape scowled. "You are extremely fortunate that the damage was not severe, and that only my NEWT class saw me in that mortifying state. I do commend you, however, for properly _burning off_ every strand on the top of my head."

Harry grinned. "It was pretty awesome, wasn't it?"

"FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR!!" Snape's arm jerked back and his hand hit the back of his chair. He winced in pain and sighed. This was getting too ridiculous.

The man noticed Potter shift uncomfortably in his seat, and he deducted that Potter was reminiscing of the past detention, when he--_they_-- did the unthinkable. Ah, yes, he thought. They should discuss that. "Well, Potter," he began, "Just give me the cure and you may be on your way."

"It's okay. I have nothing else to do right now."

Snape blinked. He certainly wasn't expecting compliance, and he didn't really have any excruciating chores that needed to be done--That damned obese Hufflepuff pissed him off the other day, and so Snape assigned a detention where Gregory relabeled all of Severus' ingredients.

"Very well... Sweep the room."

Potter obeyed, and he sweeped the room for the next ten minutes. As he cleaned the dungeon, Severus leaned against his desk, observing the boy, and planning his next move. He needed to forfeit this game without conceding the fact to Potter that he was the victor. He took a deep breath and bit his tongue before speaking, to refrain from yelling obscenities once again. "I feel, Mr. Potter, that I've reached an impasse."

"Huh?"

"My fatuous endeavors were all for naught."

"Wha?"

"This game ends--"

"Eh?"

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" he yelled. "I am conceding! Just give me the damned cure!"

Potter laughed, setting aside the broom against the wall. "I just wanted to see how many times you'd say it. Anyway, I'm not giving you the full antidote until we go on another date."

"I'd rather the Dark Lord rise again than suffer through a date with you again."

"Fine."

Snape sighed. This stupid boy was impossible. How the hell was he spending so much time with him? Nothing made sense anymore. He braced himself for a response to his next question. "Answer me this, Potter: Why are you so eager to... court me?" He added emphasis on the last two words. Maybe the boy didn't know what he was doing. Perhaps he was suffering through a potion of some sort. However, Harry tilted his head and furrowed his brows. Snape continued. "I would assume that you've got all the girls in this school eating out of the palm of your hand." And just because he was beginning to think that he _was_ a brooding bastard, he added, "At least, you seem to be fawning over that Weasley girl. Why not focus your pathetic attempts at flirting on her?"

There was that damned grin again. "Am I detecting jealousy, professor? That's very sweet of you, sir."

_Kill me now._

"Potter, why would a grown man like me be envious over an adolescent girl like Weasley?"

"I don't know, sir." Harry shrugged. "Maybe you're attracted to me?"

Sweet delicious cherries...

"Ten points from Gryff--FOOLISH--indor." He winced again. Damn it.

"And besides," Harry continued. "It'd be kinda difficult to pursue a relationship with a girl, since, you know." Harry blushed and seemed to find something fascinating on the floor at the moment.

Oh.

Oh, this was good.

"Are you telling me that you're gay?"

Harry was a furious shade of red. He shifted his weight and rubbed his arm involuntarily. "Well, yeah. No one knows though--Well, except Ron and Hermione, of course."

Snape cracked his fingers and resisted the unbearable urge to smile and cackle maniacally. "I... see. Well, this does make a lot more sense." The both of them stood there, feet apart from each other, watching the other and wondering what was running through the other's mind. This piece of information was vital, crucial to teaching Potter a lesson. Severus Snape was not a man to be messed with.

He would have satisfaction.

"So, do you need the antidote?"

That pressure in Snape's chest was back, it seemed. Severus nodded briskly. "Very well." Harry approached the man, and their eyes locked. Snape looked down at the emerald green, and he found himself _once again_ in possession of those cursed cherry lips-- and _gods_ it was delicious, as much as he hated to admit. He cupped Harry's face in his hands as he pushed the kiss farther, eliciting a whimper from the boy. He bit Harry's bottom lip, desperately trying to devour all traces of the boy's taste. Harry's hands were awkward and small on Snape's back, and Snape's conscience was screaming at the top of its lungs. It was wrong, it was disgusting, it was crazy, it was impossible, it was real...

The man broke the kiss, cursing his lungs and the body's dependence on oxygen. He licked his lips, tasting remnants of the antidote and nodded again. "You-Y-ou may leave, Potter," he announced, inwardly wincing at his stuttering and cracked voice.

"Thanks, sir. I'll be back on Tuesday."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Excuse me?"

The man sighed, suddenly realizing how miserable he felt about it all. "Nothing."

Harry said his goodbye and left to his common room while Snape slowly strolled over to his desk and sat down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to will the oncoming migraine away. He didn't need this. Stupid boy. Foolish boy. Foolish Gryffindor.

With another sigh, Snape snapped his fingers. A house elf appeared instantly, noticed whose company he was in, and began to tremble. "What can I do, sirs?"

The man stayed silent. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled a tiny vial out of his desk drawer and began. "I need you to insert this into Harry Potter's drink tomorrow morning..."

--

Author's Note: Don't hurt me. I realize it has been two months, but I'm back. Sweet, sweet summer. Anyway, thank you for sticking with me. I would love reviews. Two/three more chapters to go!


	7. Chapter 7: Final Blow

Warning: Crack!fic ahead, and I don't own the HP world. This is unbeta-ed because my beta's an ass. XD (Don't worry, I'm allowed to say that.)

Chapter 7: Final Blow

It seemed that recently, Severus Snape's life revolved around the Great Hall.

Or, at least, the incidents that occurred in it. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and stared into his porridge. If Life were a kind person, then word of his plan would have gotten around among the house elves, and that certain Potter-obsessed elf would have warned the boy. Perhaps Potter wouldn't make an appearance for breakfast. Perhaps the house elf Severus had spoken with was incompetent. Perhaps he had made a mistake in the concoction (the last idea was comical -- Severus Snape makes no mistakes).

A shiver ran down the length of his spine. It alerted him of the boy's presence. He exhaled again, more dramatically this time, and stabbed at his bowl with his utensil.

"Now, Severus, what did your porridge do to you?" Filius teased, and several other faculty members chuckled. Severus merely grunted and ignored them, his vexation at himself growing and growing at an impossible rate. Laughter exploded in the hall, and for a brief second, his heart stopped beating. The palpitations resumed, however, once he realized it came from the direction of the Hufflepuffs. His worries fled for a minute as he smirked at the sight of Gregory Walters choking on his meal -- Served him right for eating like a madman. He watched in amusement, but then scanned the other side of the room, anxiously looking for -- _there he was._

Harry Potter. Vibrant green eyes glittering and shining as he laughed at the pudgy boy. Ruffled hair, wild and untamed like that of his house mascot. Complexion milky and smooth in the morning light. He had started eating, Severus deduced, and had most likely already drank a bit of his pumpkin juice. He had a piece of egg in the right corner of his bottom lip. He looked so pristine and innocent that a pang of regret and guilt struck deep in his stomach. No, he had to stop this, before it ruined the boy --

And then he saw the female Weasley lean over and wipe the morsel of food with a delicate finger. She smiled, and he laughed at his horrid eating habits. She proceeded to lean over and whisper something in Potter's ear, and...

Fuck this. Snape didn't need to see this disgusting display of affection.

It wasn't as strong as the original potion -- Severus had intended it that way. The weaker the product, the better control he had. And since only a drop was administered, the effect would wear off in ten minutes. It also didn't lead into violent outbursts, like Snape's personal episodes. All he needed to do was say the words, or rather, think them.

_I'm gay._

"I'm gay," Harry immediately said. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, a look of utter disbelief on his face. Confusion flashed through the green.

"Sorry?" Ginny asked, blanching at the confession.

Snape bit into a piece of toast from his plate and continued. _That's right, Ginerva. I'm gay. Homosexual. So, please cease at flirting with me._

The sight of Ginny's pallid face brought the attention of her brother and his girlfriend, and unfortunately, Harry's other housemates. Finnigan turned green and Dean Thomas looked about ready to faint. "Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry glanced at her and opened his mouth, but --

"I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm gay."

Severus passed a napkin over his mouth and muttered a _Sonorus, _effectivelycasting it on the boy. Potter flinched as he felt the cool magic rush down on him. He looked around frantically, but the words continued spewing out of his mouth.

"Attention, everyone!" Potter's blush was a cherry-red again. He was biting the bottom of his lip, drawing blood, but it was of no avail. All of the students were staring at their cherished hero now, with awe in their eyes, most likely expecting an epic end-of-the-year speech.

"I'm gay!"

Silence.

Laughter.

Loud, painful laughter exploded in the Hall. Weasley and Granger both immediately raised their hands and covered their friend's mouth. "Harry, what's the matter with you?" Ron asked quietly, eyeing his friend with concern. He knew of the boy's secret, of course. Harry had told Severus of this. The lack of confidentiality at the moment most likely bewildered the stupid Gryffindor.

And Granger -- _damn her_. She was sniffing the boy's food to detect a trace of anything. Well, she couldn't possibly snoop if she was preoccupied with a blubbering best friend...

And so, Snape continued the attack.

A muffled, yet loud "I like men," spurted from Potter's mouth. The blush in his face was reaching an extremely volatile level. The boy was either extremely angry, or was about to cry. Probably the former.

"I... I don't..." Through the shocked and laughing faces, Snape could distinguish the boy's mouth struggling to remain closed. The boy was fighting it. He was squeezing his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed and nose crinkled in an unappealing fashion. His friends' hands were still clasped around his mouth. Harry was feverishly shaking his head, his hands gripping the wooden table before him. The students cackled maniacally, reverberating in the large room. Potter's Gryffindor mates merely stared in shock. Disbelief was evident in some faces. Disappointment broke through some. Ginny looked heartbroken.

Snape snorted.

As if the boy had bionic ears, his head shot up, and their eyes met. All Snape could see was green, unadulterated fury, glowing in an eerie, radioactive-like color. The adamant stare left Snape breathless. If Potter had control of his mouth he would have cursed the man to Hades.

But he didn't.

"You..." the word was venomous. Snape did not wait to hear what the boy would have said.

_I love men. I'm a queer._

Laughter.

_A pansy_.

More laughter.

_A homosexual. I, Harry Potter, am gay._

The boy was sweating buckets, and the laughter escalated further. From the Slytherin table, Snape heard an exclaimed, "I knew it!" He saw one of his students surrender two Galleons to another with a defeated frown.

"No... I... I..." Potter was no longer red, but a white that almost matched Severus' skin tone. "I..." _like men_.

People were rolling on the floor by this time, and finally, Granger and Weasley stood from the long Gryffindor table and led Potter out, the laughter echoing and lingering behind them.

After the stunned hesitation, the Heads of House rose and proceeded in calming all the students down. Hufflepuffs looked shocked and a little offended. Ravenclaws smirked, Gryffindors looked defeated and broken, and the Slytherins were puffing out their chests in an ironic, lion-like manner.

Snape muttered a _Finite Incantatem_, and gave his students the death glare, immediately dousing their rowdy behavior. Then, he heard Dumbledore's blaring voice, urging for calm and silence. Albus then turned to Minerva. "The Daily Prophet will eventually hear of this…"

The Headmaster instructed teachers to keep watch for unwanted guests. Others were directed to keep the students under control. Snape rose and approached the elder man, but Albus merely sighed and frowned.

Disappointment.

"We'll speak of this later, Severus," Albus sighed again and left with Minerva.

Suddenly not feeling very hungry, Snape rose from his chair and quickly retreated to his office.

--

Upon opening his door, Snape felt pain.

Immense pain that surged across his jaw and nose. He tasted iron on his lips and realized that blood was gushing from his nostrils. It took a few moments for the man to regain his composure and ascertain that Harry bloody Potter had just punched him in the face.

"YOU -- ARE -- AN -- ASSHOLE," Harry managed to say through clenched teeth. The furious red was back, and the radioactive green in his eyes glittered.

The boy had gone nuts.

Before Severus could defend himself, another fist flogged him in his belly. The man keeled over and hissed, and then, _MERLIN, _his balls were _on fucking fire_, no thanks to a perfect kick in the nuts. "Mr. Potter," Snape wheezed, but Harry pushed and flung him across the room. The man fell against a bookshelf, a group of books toppling to the floor.

"I -- TRUSTED -- YOU," the boy seethed as he grabbed an empty bottle off of Snape's desk and threw it at the man. "HOW -- DARE -- YOU..."

"Control yourself, Mr. Potter!" Snape exclaimed, fumbling through his robes and frantically searching for his wand. Grasping the wood, he turned to face Potter, but instead, was ambushed by Potter's well-placed _Stupefy_.

The man flew backward again and landed on the floor. The impact caused more large books to fall on his head and body. Snape shook the pain away and raised his head in time to focus on Potter's shaking, raging form. The boy reached into his pocket and stared at the small, blue bottle in his hand. He then threw it in Snape's direction. The glass shattered and the liquid pooled around Severus' boots.

"There," Harry muttered in a low tone.

Snape recognized the tone. It was the one he used on Harry.

"There's your stupid fucking antidote." Snape watched Harry leave and heard his footsteps echo in the dungeon hall. After a few minutes, Snape rose and brushed himself off. With a quick spell, he fixed the broken bottle and poured its contents back in.

The antidote. Snape rolled the bottle in his hands and sighed. He should have been surprised and irritated that Harry had been lying to him all along.

He would have been fuming at the revelation, if he hadn't already known. A physical manifestation of an antidote... Snape was a bit intoxicated on his date with Harry, so the boy's talk of a kiss didn't seem all too peculiar. However, upon sober inspection of the entire ordeal, Severus realized that it was just magically impossible.

It wasn't long before Snape concluded that Harry was lying. The boy probably drank the antidote, as it had no effect on him, and left traces of it on his lips. Clever boy... but not clever enough.

Severus knew all this. And as soon as he tasted those lips, he not only tasted _sweet delicious_ cherries, but the many ingredients mixed in the antidote. To make the antidote himself would have been child's play -- a mere day's work, and everything would have been solved. But instead, he occupied his time with creating yet another offensive concoction.

Yes, he knew all this. And why Snape avoided the solution the entire time, he had no idea, but to even say _that_, was another lie.

The truth of the matter was... the truth scared the hell out of him.

He consumed the contents in the bottle with one large gulp and threw the bottle at the door. He would need absinthe for the rest of the school year to endure Potter's glares towards his contemptible Potions professor.

Foolish Slytherin.

--

Author's Note: HULK!HARRY IS CANON. MUAHAHAHA. You hate me. I can feel it. So I've one more chapter to go for this story... but I've got more Snaaarrrys comin'. Ones that actually have plot. You will love them, I hope.

Okay, time to get serious. Thanks for the reviews, and alerts, and faves. Seriously. You make my day. :D

P.S. I know this chapter's supposed to be kind-of-sort-of serious but not really, but I HAD to put a double-entendre somewhere in here. I hope you found it. :)


	8. Chapter 8: The Conclusion

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my braiinzzzz. Crack!fic. I'm not right in the head, but if you made it this far, you totally already know that.

Chapter 8: The Conclusion

The next three weeks were perhaps, the most excruciating and intolerable days of Severus' life -- and he was once a Death-Eater, for Merlin's sake.

The torture began as soon as Potter bolted out of Snape's office on Friday morning. The man cleaned his blood-stained face and rushed to the bathroom to see if Potter's foot did any permanent damage to his lower organs. After taking a pain-relieving potion, Snape proceeded to teach his classes. Just like he expected, Harry Potter was the main subject of gossip that day. Eavesdropping on two rather giggly fifth-years, Severus discovered that indeed, somehow, _The Daily Prophet_ heard of the morning incident. A gang of reporters hounded the school, and were kept outside the doors until Harry finally requested they be permitted inside for a short interview. The boy most likely felt that it was all inevitable, Snape figured. It really was -- Potter was in the public eye every day after all -- but the fact that Snape practically forced the boy into the unwanted situation brought a huge weight of guilt on the man's shoulders.

His NEWT class was eerily silent and conspicuously missing a Golden Boy. Granger and Weasley's incessant hushed chattering eventually became too much for Snape, and so he deducted house points. The scathing looks that came after the loss gave the assumption that the pair knew the exact cause of the spectacle in the morning.

By the end of the day, Severus was exhausted. He had retired to his chambers early in hopes of drowning in liquor, but his plans were quickly thwarted by a firecall from the Headmaster. Severus arrived swiftly to endure more torture: a rather long conversation about the good in people, how Albus was not angry about what had happened but merely disappointed, and how Harry was a _noble_ (Snape interjected with a snort) Gryffindor, and because he was a _noble_ (another snort) Gryffindor, Harry wouldn't punish Severus in any way (except with a good thrashing). He ended by saying that just because Harry wasn't going to defend himself didn't mean that Snape should not think about the consequences of what he did, and how it may affect him in the future.

Severus took the entire speech as a subtle way of saying, "Snape, I'm totally making you pay for what you did to my favorite student, so watch your back. Now take your complimentary lemon drop and get the fuck out."

The next week was more arduous, mostly due to Potter's complete apathy towards him. He at least expected leers in class and bitter remarks on the margins of the boy's essays, but Snape received nothing. No glances in his direction. No whispered insults were heard when his back was turned to the students. No flinches when Snape would near Potter's or Granger's or Weasley's cauldrons. Nothing.

_The Daily Prophets_ for the remainder of the week were, to be frank, nauseating. Was there absolutely nothing important occurring in the wizarding world? The first article speaking of the boy's sexual orientation basically informed that yes, Harry was indeed, a homosexual, and that, yes, Harry wanted to announce it in the Great Hall in the comfort of his own friends and classmates.

_Crystal-clear tears glistened as they slid down Harry's cheeks. Wiping his face with a shaking hand, he continued. "I didn't think I'd receive such a negative reaction. I can't help but feel the feelings I feel!"_

Snape's balls began to ache. He really did deserve that.

And just when things couldn't get any worse, Albus had dropped in his office during the end of the week because he had a _favor_ to ask. The elder man decided it a fitting punishment that he, Severus Snape, tutor a first-year for his end-of-the-year exams, to assuage any fear or doubt that Mr. Gregory _goddamn fucking_ Walters might have for his tests.

Each evening session usually followed the same schedule. Gregory would enter Snape's classroom with a glossy look on his face, and chocolate stains on his chin and school robes. "Th-thank you, so, so, so much, Professor Snape! I.. I don't know how to th--," and Severus would sternly cut the boy off with a reprimand. Severus would ask him questions and Gregory would answer five out of ten correctly. After three rounds of this, Snape would have enough and demand to know if the boy kept sweets and desserts in his head instead of a brain, to which point the poor Mr. Walters would collapse in tears and weep that it wasn't his fault and promptly run away, usually tripping as he left or crashing into an inanimate object. Rinse and repeat.

Perfect retribution in the eyes of a Gryffindor. The lowest level of Hell in the eyes of a Slytherin.

His hypocrisy was driving him insane, as well. Severus knew that his actions were extreme and appalling. He had fallen into the world of pranking, a world that James Potter, arch-enemy, once ruled, and that fact alone disgusted Severus to no end. He would frequently rant endlessly on the similarities between Harry and his father... Severus scoffed inwardly at the thoughts now. He was just as bad.

As difficult as everything was, Snape believed that he could handle the stupidity of it all. However, he could not handle the burdening guilt that came with humiliating Harry. Bad things were happening because Severus could not control his emotions, a task in which he was extremely adept. It was Snape's fault that Potter was broken.

Except that, Potter wasn't really broken. No, he was a bloody Gryffindor, and through the help of his friends, he quickly recovered from the embarrassment and moved on to bigger and better things, like hardcore sessions of cramming any and all information regarding magic so the boy would pass his NEWTs and grow up to be a big, mighty auror, or a muscular, skilled Quidditch player, or the best Minister of Magic the wizarding world ever saw. The boy could be anything because he was Harry fucking Potter.

And Severus Snape was a bitter old man who inanely attempted to ruin Potter's life, and ended up marring his own.

Because while Harry grew up and succeeded, Severus Snape stayed in his office and brooded (and since when did Snape brood?) over his feelings.

Because while Harry left, Severus Snape stayed with his thoughts, that perhaps,

possibly,

maybe,

he might have a fancy for Harry.

A little. Just a little.

Maybe a little bit more than a little.

Or a little bit less than a lot more than a little.

This was why he took no chances, because a little could certainly become a lot. So, after the long and mentally straining two weeks of exams, Snape locked himself in his office and graded, graded, graded. He avoided everyone, save for the house elves who demanded that he eat something every once in a while. Albus had interrupted his brooding that masqueraded as grading to thank him for a job well done on Mr. Walters. Snape sneered.

Soon enough, the Closing Feast had arrived. Severus only determined this by the large and superfluous dinner that a house elf brought in his office. He ate a quarter of it, and then proceeded in creating a list of supplies that he would need for the following year.

A knock on the door. "Enter," Severus said. He had once attempted to skip a Closing Feast, but Albus had marched down into the dungeons to fetch him, insisting that it was not in good conduct to simply skip such a formal event. He sighed and dipped his quill in his bottle of ink before continuing his list.

"Hi."

The shocked scratch of a quill on parchment. He hesitated before dipping the writing utensil once more. "Potter." The crack in his voice gave him away. Damn it all.

He heard Potter close the door and advance two steps toward the desk. "I, uh... Everyone was wondering where you were."

"Ah. Well, everyone can sleep easier now, then."

A moment's silence, punctuated by the scratching of a quill and the ticking of a clock. "You haven't been around much, lately."

"I didn't think you would bother to notice since you've been avoiding me like a Dementor." The words were out before he thought of their impact -- a rather Gryffindor action.

"Well," Harry began with evident bitterness in his tone, "You didn't exactly give me a choice with your stupid potion--"

"MY stupid potion?" Severus finally looked up as he slammed his quill on his desk. "YOU were the one who poisoned me in the fir--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Snape! I didn't poison you! It was a harmless brew--"

"--st place, and you were the one who failed to deliver a goddamned antidote, leaving me no alternative but to--"

"--and I DID bring you an antidote, it was just temporary, you never said about it being permanent, anyway--"

"--publicly humiliate you in front of your entire school so you'd finally concede and cooperate--"

"--and there were better ways of having me cooperate, Snape, but you were too stubborn to see them!"

"Foolish Gryffindor!"

"Senile SLYTHERIN!" Harry grabbed a book from a shelf and flung it at Snape, whose head moved to the right. The man looked behind his chair at the projectile, stood and walked around his desk, narrowing his eyes at his company.

"For Merlin's sake, Mr. Potter, stop throwing my possessions in my office!"

"Not until you stop being a greasy git!" Another book missed Snape's head by three inches.

"Potter, stop!"

"Fine, then," Harry dropped the book in his hand on the floor and advanced towards his professor. "I'll just break your big nose again!"

Snape's eyes widened as he retreated backwards to his desk. "Potter, no! Control yourself for once!"

"You really are a stupid bastard, you git!"

"Potter, stop!"

"I'm gonna wipe that sneer off your ugly face!"

"Potter!"

"And then I'll--"

"POTTER!"

"WHAT?"

Somehow, Snape ended up trapped between the wrath of Harry Potter, and the edge of his mahogany desk. The boy's eyes glittered brightly and his hair was a mess (though that was nothing unusual). The boy's chest was rising quickly and heavily as the boy began to regain control. Sometime during the entire escapade, Potter had rolled up the sleeves of his school shirt, revealing his long, slender arms, and he had worked up a sweat that glistened under the lighting in Snape's office.

Severus realized just who he was staring at.

_cherriescherriescherriescherriescherries..._

And then Harry was on him as Snape leaned back and sat on top of his desk, lips crushing against each other roughly and hungrily. Severus grabbed onto Harry's hips as the boy straddled him and placed a leg on each side of the man. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck as he sucked and bit Severus' bottom lip, and _ohgod_ it was so amazing, everything felt amazing, especially how Harry was grinding his erection against Snape's in such a way that should be deemed sinful. Harry's mouth tasted so delicious, it was impossible to repress the moan that came out of Snape's mouth. He broke the kiss to explore more of the boy's skin, in particular, the boy's pale neck. "Harry," he moaned, as he sucked on the boy's skin, his hands traveling the length of the boy's spine. His hands snaked from Harry's back, to his hips, to his waist and side, to his chest, and back again, feeling and craving every inch as he began to lick a trail from the boy's collarbone to his jaw. The boy flung his head back and groaned as he rubbed himself against Severus, hands caressing each strand of sleek, black hair. "Severus," he whispered softly, and then he caught Snape's mouth for another long kiss, and--

The door flung open with extreme force. "Professor Snape! I wanted to tha--"

Harry and Severus immediately turned to face the wide-eyed, pudgy first-year. His mouth was open in an unattractive way for a good five seconds as the pair tried to explain themselves.

"I--"

"He--"

"Yelling--"

"Throwing--"

"Potion--"

"Poison--"

Gregory simply raised his finger to point and stammered, "I-I-..I-... WHY CA-CAN'T MY LIFE BE NORMAL?" before bursting into tears and fleeing the scene, door slamming shut after him.

Harry turned back around and moved to capture Snape's lips for another kiss, but the man moved back. Harry cocked his head in an expression of confusion.

"I..." Snape swallowed. "I think we should stop."

"Why?" Harry asked quietly.

They sat in silence for two seconds before Snape muttered, "I'm... wrinkling all my papers."

Harry burst into hysterical laughter.

"Potter, I--"

Harry nodded. "I know. Just forget it. As long as you know that you're a git, then there's no need to talk about it."

Severus nodded. He had somehow extricated himself from the tangles of temptation and ended up back in his chair. Potter was leaning against the door with his arms crossed, eyes intently on the older man. "You don't have to call me that, you know."

"Harry." It sounded perfect and delicious during the throes of passion, but at the moment, it felt strange and foreign on his tongue.

The taste probably showed in his expression because Harry immediately grinned. "It's okay. You'll get used to it."

Severus snorted. "I doubt I'll ever get used to the idea of..."

"Us?"

Snape nodded curtly.

Harry grinned again and advanced forward. "That's the trouble with Slytherins... Ambitious and cunning, yes, but never willing to take a leap of faith."

The Head of Slytherin smirked. "You mean run in blindly, like a Gryffindor."

"Exactly." Harry pressed his hands on the desk and stared at the older man. "See, it's good to build unity among the houses."

"Hmm. What of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?"

Harry bent down until he was on his haunches and his head was propped up against the desk, his hands extended to meet Snape's in the center -- much to the man's dismay of course. There was only so much Gryffindor romanticism he could take in one sitting, literally.

"Well," he began as he traced circles on Snape's hands. The man coughed and clenched his fists in irritation. "I think Luna Lovegood and Zacharias Smith are dating, though I doubt it'll last. But at least they're trying." The boy hesitated before he proceeded. "It's weird, I know. And if someone told me a year ago that I was going to snog Professor Snape one day, I would have probably vomited in my mouth."

Severus' eyebrows furrowed and he unfastened himself from Harry's grip. The boy laughed. "A little," he said. "Just a little."

Snape stared.

Harry blinked and stared off into the distance, as if losing himself in his thoughts. "Maybe a little bit more than a little."

Snape gaped.

"Or a little bit less than a lot more than a little." The boy's eyes glittered.

Severus shook his head in disbelief. "Foolish Gryffindor."

"Senile Slytherin."

And Harry laughed.

--

A/N: Epilogue coming shortly.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

(AKA Chapter 9: For The Lulz)

What in the world did Severus Snape get himself into?

He liked Harry. He really did. The boy was charming, interesting, and shared Snape's sense of humor. Most importantly, he never showed any regret of establishing their unexpected relationship, and that made Severus believe that Harry's intentions were genuine. The boy was... decent.

But... dear Merlin, Harry_ never _tired of snogging.

At first, Severus had no qualms with this. He adored the pressure of the boy's lips against his own. He loved to feel Harry's tongue trace the shape of his mouth and worm its way inside. He enjoyed sucking and biting Harry's neck to the point where he left ugly purple bruises on the pale flesh. Yet, at the same time, each snogging session exhausted him because Harry insisted on necking _every goddamn day_. And since the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was retiring in two years, and Albus offered an apprentice job to Harry, this only meant that the desired obligatory sessions _were_ happening every goddamn day.

Severus was going mad. His tongue always ached, his back would sometimes give out due to long periods of being in an awkward position, and on some nights he would go to bed with an extremely painful erection.

Worst of all, his disgust of all the excess germs in his mouth was escalating to an extremely dangerous level.

He had to put a stop it. So, whenever he heard footsteps in a Hogwarts corridor, he'd quickly hide behind a statue and breathe a sigh of relief when he realized it was just another staff member.

This, however, did not work all the time. Once, after watching Filch trudge past him and turn the corner, Snape stepped into view and continued walking down to his office. He was about to turn when--

"Severus!"

Bugger.

He turned around and forced a crooked smile on his face. "Mr. Potter."

Harry advanced toward his partner and tilted his head. "Where've you been? I've been looking for you."

"I've had potions to bre--"

He couldn't finish the end of his sentence because Harry was immediately on him, trapping the man against a wall, and asking for a snog then and there in the hallway. With the way Harry's hard length was rubbing against his thigh, who was Snape to resist?

But he most certainly didn't want it.

Another strategy he tried was to feign illness and retreat to his haven at Spinner's End. He usually left for his home on the weekends, but decided to spend two weeks in solitude there, rather than two days. It worked for the first four days, but on the fifth day, someone had knocked on the door. Upon opening, the man's heart sank. Lo and behold, Harry Potter had arrived with a large bottle of Pepper-Up potion, and a suitcase.

"Just thought you'd miss me," he simply stated.

Of course he did, Snape thought. But he also missed... his office and... Books... so, the boy really shouldn't have felt so special when Snape let him in the house.

Snape even tried blatant rage at the boy's feisty behavior, but honestly, who could stay furious with Harry's mouth on his cock?

Having no other options, Snape chose his last resort.

Two months after the Closing Ceremony found the man sitting uncomfortably in Dumbledore's office. Being in the man's abnormally cheerful presence for too long was unbearable, but at least Severus wasn't being forced onto the floor or against walls or leaning on desks or...

His pants were growing tight. Best not to continue with that trail of thought. He returned to the present where Dumbledore was eagerly recounting a tale of his past.

"...and with the help of a flying dragon and Dr. Albert Hoffman, I was able to fathom the concept of transcendentalism."

"Hmmm."

"Let me assure you, it was a life-altering experience, Severus," Albus finished as he took a sip of his tea.

"Hmmm."

"Ah, Harry! A pleasant surprise. Sit down, my boy."

"HMMM?"

Snape almost choked on his drink. He turned around in time to see Harry shift his eyes from Snape to Dumbledore. "Good evening, sir. I was actually looking for Severus. I have to discuss (the boy coughed) important matters with him."

Severus was mortified. Could the boy make it more obvious? Albus smiled and his eyes began to twinkle. "Of course, Harry. I've kept him in here for too long. Almost two hours," he said as he looked at the grandfather clock. "I do apologize, Severus."

The man grunted. "Are you positive that we've nothing else to discuss? I must insi--"

But the elder man had already stood from his seat and began to usher Snape out, along with Harry. "No, no. Your, ahem, matters are far more important than my stories. But if you do wish to hear more, I will drop by at your office tomorrow afternoon. Good evening."

Severus cringed. He was not looking forward to the next day. Or the upcoming hour, for that matter. Well, maybe a little.. No! He must have some self-control. The man quickly marched through the hallways and to his chambers, with Harry catching up behind him. "You're welcome," Harry said with a grin.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you don't exactly enjoy listening to Dumbledore's stories, no matter how interesting they are."

Snape scowled. "Well, Mr. Potter, today's tales were particularly exhilarating, so I did not, in fact, enjoy your interruption."

Harry laughed as they both turned a corner. "Of course, Snape. It's why you were practically asleep on the chair. Exhilarating, I could tell."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You are such an immature, little brat," the man sneered as he opened his door and allowed Harry in. He could have left Harry outside and let him go back to his own rooms, but...

...Actually, he had no excuse for that.

As soon as Severus sat down on his black couch, the boy jumped on top of him and began to kiss the man feverishly, tugging at the man's hair and grinding his heat against Snape's.

It was too much.

"Pott--"

But that just granted the boy access to his mouth, damn it! The tongue was now twisting and circling around his own and.. it... too... much... guh...

No!

A muffled "Potter" was barely heard through Harry's loud groans. Harry broke the kiss and began to nip at the man's jaw. This gave Severus his only chance.

"Harry, I... _fuck_..."

One of the boy's hands had somehow trailed down his chest and past his waist. He had managed to undo Snape's belt, unzip his trousers, and squeeze his hand through to touch Snape's cock. Luckily, the jolt of electricity in his pants was enough to bring the man back into reality. He pushed Harry off him, sending him tumbling down to the floor. The boy recovered quickly and smirked. "On the floor, then?"

"No."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a habit he learned from the man. "So, what was that all about?" Then, realization broke through his features. "Oh, you want a blowjob!" Harry crawled toward the man and attempted to push the trousers down, but Snape stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, Harry. I... can't do this anymore."

Harry had a vacant expression on his face for a good five seconds before sitting back down on the floor. "Me neither."

It wasn't the reaction Snape was expecting, but he sighed in relief anyway. He was about to stand up and take care of his problem himself when Potter spoke.

"I think we should have sex."

"What?" Snape's voice rose three octaves. "Potter, are you insane?"

"What?" Harry asked apprehensively. "Don't tell me you don't want to."

"I don't want to."

Silence. Then, Harry laughed, much to Severus' annoyance.

"Just what, pray tell, is so goddamn hilarious?"

"You," Harry managed to say through his heaving. "What's the matter with you, tonight?"

Snape exhaled loudly and made himself more comfortable on the couch. Harry followed suit, seating himself next to him. "I'm sure you remember your last Hogsmeade outing when you were still a student, correct?"

"You mean, our first date? Yeah. I remember." Harry's fingers slowly inched their way towards Severus' groin.

"Do you recall that I mentioned my aversion to any physical intimacy?"

"Of course." Harry's mission of getting his hand down Snape's pants was a success. The man shifted and attempted to continue speaking.

"Well...mmm... What makes you--_fuck, that's good..._an exception?"

"Maybe because you haven't complained before?" Harry suggested in Snape's ear. He managed to release the man's length from his boxers and was pumping it in a slow and steady rhythm.

"I..."

"Admit it. You like me."

Severus was gripping the couch with his eyes closed. "I like... this."

"So then, what makes you think you won't like sex? I'll be bottom, if that's what you're worrying about."

The thought of Harry topping was comical to Snape, the mirth evident in his smirk. "It's been... a while, mmm..."

"If it helps," Harry began as he ran a thumb over Snape's head, "I don't have anything to compare it to."

The man's eyes shot open. "You're a...?"

Harry nodded.

It really was too much.

--

"Whoa, Snape! Your dick is huge!"

Severus felt heat on his cheeks as he looked at Harry sternly. "Your inappropriate comments never cease to amaze me. And I would think that you would know my size by your eh, past endeavors."

"Well, yeah," Harry said as he propped himself up on his elbows in the center of the bed. "But I've never seen you completely naked like this, it's... kinda hot."

Leave Severus to choose a randy Gryffindor for a partner. Nevertheless, he advanced towards the bed and relished the sight of Harry Potter laid out on his green sheets with absolutely nothing on. Harry already had an erection that curved toward his stomach, and looked like he was already leaking pre-cum.

It was delicious.

Severus climbed onto the mattress and propped himself over his partner. "You are sure?"

Harry responded by licking the side of Snape's chin. A bit gross, but a turn-on, anyway. He claimed Harry's lips as he settled himself onto the boy's flesh. His erection rubbed against Harry's, eliciting loud moans from both partners. Snape grinded against Harry until Snape broke the kiss. Both of them were now panting heavily. He took the time then to explore Harry's body, starting with the boy's neck. He bit before sucking on the salty taste, causing Harry to groan aloud. Snape's hands traveled downward, one on his partner's hipbone, and the other circling one of his nipples. He pinched the nub and Harry's half-lidded eyes shot open. "Fuck, that's...oh god!"

Severus' mouth had found the other nub and was now mercilessly biting it. He continued for the next ten seconds before stopping and kissing Harry once more. Then, he slowly made his way down, licking, sucking, and biting every patch of skin before he found Harry's navel. Then, something poked his chin, and he found himself face-to-face with Harry's cock.

Panic rising in his chest, Snape attempted to lift his head up, but was stopped by a hoarse plea from his partner. "Do it, please," Harry asked, thrusting as the head of his cocked rubbed against Snape's closed lips. The man backed away.

"But..."

"Please," Harry pleaded. "I've done it for you!"

Severus scowled. "Do stop your whining, it's very unattractive. I'll... do it. Just give me a moment," he said as he prepared himself mentally.

"Come on! It's not that ba--HOLY FUCK!" Harry cried as he threw his head back, fingers tightly gripping the sheets below him. Severus had grabbed the Gryffindor's shaft and opened his mouth to swirl his tongue around the head. It wasn't as bad as he assumed it would be. The taste of Harry's cock was a bit bitter, but the look of pleasure on the teenager's face when Snape licked the length of Harry's vein on the underside of his cock was divine. In fact, Severus began to enjoy hearing the loud cries as he took in all of Harry into his mouth, saliva dripping down the sides.

"God, Severus... Mmm... more," Harry uttered. Severus took such delight in the moans. No one could render Harry speechless like he could. Harry's right hand gripped the back of Snape's head, running his fingers through the strands and tucking it behind his ear to watch his partner suck his cock.

"You look... so fucking amazing," Harry breathed, rocking his hips and not realizing that Snape was almost choking. Snape released the organ with a pop and glared, but Harry did not register the man's irritation.

"Fuck me," he demanded. Snape obliged.

He brought his hand to Harry's lips. "Suck." Severus inserted three fingers into the teenager's mouth and brought them back out after a few moments.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, and Harry followed, spreading them as much as he could.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"Shut up for a minute," Snape said, preparing himself for the physical intrusion. Then, looking into Harry's eyes, he inserted his index finger into the Gyffindor's entrance. Harry gasped and scrunched up his face. "Well?" Snape asked.

"Feels... strange," Harry admitted. "Keep going." Snape pumped a finger in and out, stretching the hole as much as possible. He then inserted a second finger, much to Harry's delight. The boy writhed under him, thrusting his hips and rolling his eyes back. "God, Severus..."

Severus was reaching his limit, as well. Harry was too _goddamn_ tight, and he knew the both of them wouldn't last very long. He inserted his third finger and twisted them around inside Harry. He lowered his head and caught Harry's lips in a kiss. Finally deeming his partner ready, he removed his fingers and looked at him once more.

Harry pushed strands of hair from Snape's face and sighed. "I love you."

"Shut up. I'm going to stick it in now." And with that, he penetrated the ring of muscle, eliciting loud gasps from both men.

Euphoria. The tightness was pure euphoria. He watched Harry's eyes roll to the back of his head, heard him as he dropped his jaw and moaned nonsensical words aloud, felt Harry's legs wrap around his waist, urging Severus to go deeper. Severus slid back out and thrusted deeper into the _wonderful_ nirvana, groaning his lover's name out loud.

He bit the Gryffindor's shoulder and began to thrust steadily into him. Harry groaned with each thrust, the volume growing louder and louder as he rammed the boy harder.

"Fuck... me... harder," Harry pleaded in Severus' ear. The man just panted heavily, biting and sucking the boy's shoulder until it began to color.

It was so _fucking_ good, and when Severus slid out and turned the boy around to a different position, it was even better. He set one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other on the boy's hip, positioning himself until finally, he was hitting that spot with every thrust. The boy cried out, and leaned back until Snape was breathing heavily on his neck. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, eyes closed and glasses askew on his face. "Touch me, I'm gonna fuckin' come..."

Those delicious words were just what Severus needed. He pushed Harry back down on the bed and grabbed the teenager's dick as he synchronized the pumps of his hand with the thrusting of his own cock. "Oh, fuck!" Harry yelled after a few thrusts, spurting onto Snape's hand and sheets. The man brought the stained hand to Harry's mouth and Harry eagerly sucked his own cum, and that image finally sent the man over the edge. He grabbed Harry's waist with both hands and thrusted, calling out for his lover with each push and, _fuck_.

He drained himself inside Harry, groaning until he was spent, and collapsed on top of the boy, panting heavily, Harry doing the same. After a minute, Snape pulled himself out and rolled over next to Harry, staring at the ceiling.

"Final verdict, Mr. Potter?"

"Fuck."

"Yes, we just did."

Harry propped himself on an elbow and looked down to his lover. "I love you. I really do." Severus snorted and closed his eyes, a smirk threatening to form on his lips. Harry continued, eyebrows furrowed in feigned disappointment. "Okay, fine. I don't love you, you git. But that was fucking amazing, and you know it."

Severus could no longer hold the smirk. "Foolish Gryffindor."

"Sexy Slytherin," Harry muttered before kissing Snape. Oddly, the man no longer felt exhausted.

--

ONE MONTH LATER

"And that, my boy, is how I managed to find the great wizard, Waldo."

"Hmmm."

"It was a most difficult task, let me assure you, but the satisfaction was well worth it."

"Hmmm."

"Ah, Severus! So good to see you here!"

"HMMM?"

Harry almost choked on his tea. He turned around in time to see Snape shift his eyes from himself to Dumbledore. "I am afraid I cannot stay, as I've potions to attend to. However, I did need... a helpful hand from Mr. Potter, if that is all right?"

Harry winced inwardly. Could Severus be any more obvious? "Actually, Severus, Albus and I were in the middle of someth--"

"Harry, don't be foolish! I have kept you here--Oh, my. Five hours!" Albus chuckled and began to usher both men out of his office. "I apologize for keeping you so late, Harry. Please, go with Severus. Good night!"

"But--"

He realized he was already at the bottom of the spiral staircase and sighed. Severus eyed him and smirked. "You're welcome," he said, and briskly walked in the direction of the dungeons.

"I like his stories!" Harry followed, though slowly. His lower body ached terribly due to last night's events. "Slow down!"

"Do hurry up, Potter. I've an erection that needs to be sated, _now_."

Harry groaned. They had been having sex every night, and he was exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't love feeling Snape inside him, but he was literally using all his strength to stand and walk nowadays.

"Snape, can't we just lie in bed and talk tonight?"

"No."

"But--"

"No."

Harry sighed. What in the world did he get himself into?

FIN

--

A/N: Thank you for reading. I couldn't have done this without my two betas. I hope you enjoyed. Yesss. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Snape and Harry make up a schedule for teh sexxorz and stay together forever. Gregory Walters grows up and becomes the first homosexual Minister of Magic. The two protagonists in the story can't help but feel slightly responsible.


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